North Wales Folk Tales for Children Read online

  And because the castle was nearly always empty, it was slowly falling down.

  And because it was slowly falling down, a dragon took it over.

  It made its home in the ruins of the castle, and it would fly out over the countryside, and come back with a sheep or a shepherd or a cow or a cowherd, to cook with its flames and eat for its lunch.

  Soon the people of Denbigh were afraid for their lives.

  ‘Who can save us?’ they wailed.

  Then the cry went up around the town, ‘Sir John! Sir John!’

  Hearing his name, Sir John came rushing to find out what had suddenly made him so popular. They told him about the dragon; they showed him the burns and claw-marks all around.

  ‘Never fear! Sir John is here!’ he cried. And he went away to put on his armour.

  Now, a suit of armour big enough for a giant is not easy to find, and it’s a shame that Sir John hadn’t looked after it, because it would have been very useful for dragon slaying. Unfortunately, the suit was so old and rusty and stiff that Sir John could not move it, or even open the helmet.

  ‘Never mind!’ yelled this cheery hero. ‘I’ll see to him as I am!’

  He picked up his sword, and set off up the hill to the castle to face the dragon. The good folk of Denbigh came out to cheer for him – but quite quietly, in case the dragon heard them.

  Sir John went into the castle. There wasn’t anyone there. Everyone had either run away from the dragon or been eaten by it.

  If he was wondering how to find the dragon, he soon stopped. A huge, scaly, smoking head appeared around the Treasure House Tower, grinning horribly.

  ‘How nice to have a visitor,’ said the dragon. ‘Now, do tell me, why have you come?’

  ‘Dragon,’ shouted Sir John, ‘I have come to fight you. Get ready to die, for I have never been beaten in battle!’

  ‘There’s always a first time,’ said the dragon, uncurling massively from where it lay under the Treasure House Tower, the Bishop’s Tower and the Red Tower. It really was a very big dragon.

  Blows crashed, claws clashed, stones tumbled, the earth rumbled. It was a bitter battle.

  It really was a very big dragon.

  Down below, in Castle Lane and Love Lane, in Lôn Parc, Lôn Ganol and Lôn y Post, the townsfolk shivered, prayed and crossed their fingers for luck.

  Sir John needed a bit of luck. This dragon was a lot harder to fight than he had expected.

  For the first time in his life, Sir John thought he was going to lose a battle. The dragon was larger than him, wasn’t tired and was able to fly.

  Sir John was fighting as well as he could, but he was tired, especially when the dragon started playing a trick, which it thought was very funny. It stood up on its hind legs, and biffed him flat on his face with one of its front claws. Then it swung its tail under him as he tried to get up, so that he flipped down onto his bottom. Sir John could see that this might be funny to watch, but it wasn’t at all funny to be part of it.

  The dragon was forcing him backwards towards the well. It was going to be a long way to fall. Sir John told himself it wouldn’t do the dragon any good to push him down the well, because it would not be able to get him and eat him. But he knew that it wouldn’t do him any good either …

  Sir John realised that he was going to have to beat the dragon by being crafty, not strong. His brain started working as fast as his sword, as he tried to think of a way to trick the dragon before it finished him off. Then, as it reached up again to bash him on the back of the head, and he twisted round as far as he could to get out of its way, he saw a soft place under its wing, without any scales to protect it.

  Hope filled his heart. He took two steps back, which put him right on the edge of the well, but just too far away for the dragon to reach. The dragon snorted and stretched, opening its wings to push itself forward. When it did this, he could see the soft skin under its wing.

  Sir John stabbed suddenly with his sword, burying the blade in the dragon’s side. With a terrible scream, the dragon fell – but then it got up again, looking really annoyed! Sir John was ready, and stabbed again. The dragon fell again. And got up again! Sir John stabbed a third time. This time the dragon fell and didn’t move.

  Sir John leaned on his sword until he had got his breath back, then he bent over and began to cut off the dragon’s head. This might sound like a nasty thing to do, but he needed to be able to prove that the dragon was dead. If not, how was he going to get everybody to stop hiding and go back to normal life?

  As he carried the horrid head down Castle Hill, the people of Denbigh came out once more to cheer him, and this time they didn’t have to do it quietly!

  9

  TWO MORE GIANTS

  The king of Ireland was out riding his horse one day. He galloped up a hill and looked down from the top at a large, lovely lake. It was called the Lake of the Cauldron, and as the king watched, the water in the lake began to boil and bubble, just like soup in a pot on the fire.

  Then the king saw, or he thought he saw, red and yellow weed swirling around on the surface of the bubbling water. But it wasn’t weed. It was hair!

  Up from the water came the swirly stuff, and underneath this hair was a huge head, like a great round island covered in red and yellow grass, with water pouring off it as it came up.

  Under the hair there were two enormous eyes.

  Under the eyes there was a nose like a steep ski slope.

  Under the nose there was a mouth like a wide wild valley.

  Under the head there was a neck as massive as a mountain, and under the neck there was a huge body to match the huge head.

  A giant appeared, sending great waves crashing as he walked. He waded out of the lake and shook the water out of his hair. He was carrying something on his back. It was a cauldron that matched his size. He seemed huge to the king, but when a woman followed him out of the lake, he looked quite small beside her. She was twice as big as he was!

  The two giants looked around, and saw the king sitting on his horse at the top of the hill. They started to walk towards him. In only two steps, they had climbed the hill and were standing looking down at the king, who felt rather nervous as he looked up at them. But he didn’t need to worry. The giants spoke to him politely.

  ‘It is good to meet you,’ they said, speaking together. ‘Are you the king of this place above the water?’

  ‘I am,’ said the king, ‘it is called Ireland. How are things going with you?’

  ‘Well,’ said the man giant, ‘it’s like this, Lord. My name is Llasar, and this is my wife Cymidei. In two months and two weeks, she is going to have a baby.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the woman giant, Cymidei, ‘and the baby will be born with weapons in his hands, and he will already be a warrior and ready to fight whenever you need him.’

  ‘Well,’ said the king, ‘I promise I will give you somewhere safe to stay until the baby is born.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Llasar. ‘In that case, we promise that you can use our cauldron whenever you need it. ’

  ‘Thanks to you too,’ said the king with a smile. ‘I’m sure that a cauldron as big as yours will be very useful for feasts at the palace. You must be able to cook soup for a hundred people in that!’

  This is the Cauldron of Rebirth.

  ‘No, Lord, you don’t understand,’ said Cymidei politely. ‘This is not an ordinary cauldron. You can’t use it for cooking. This is the Cauldron of Rebirth. It can bring dead warriors back to life.’

  ‘What?’ said the king in surprise. ‘I have never heard of such a thing.’

  ‘It is one of the Treasures of the Island of the Mighty,’ said Cymidei. ‘One day we will take it back there. It has been at the bottom of this lake with us for a long time. We are its Keepers.’

  ‘We will let you use it if you need it. When a warrior is killed in battle, you can throw his body into the cauldron. In the night he will come back to life and next morning he will climb out again, ready to figh
t. No one who has been in the Cauldron of Rebirth is able to speak afterwards, because what they see there is secret, but they will be even better at fighting than they were before.’

  ‘I see,’ said the king. ‘If we have a war, this cauldron will certainly help us to win. But there is no war in the land at the moment, I’m glad to say. Come back with me and I will find you somewhere to live.’

  So the two giants, Llasar and Cymidei, followed the king to his palace and, true to his word, he found them a place to live nearby. They settled down, and after two months and two weeks a warrior baby was born. He was as fierce as could be!

  Soon the warrior had a brother … and then another brother … and then another brother!

  Every two and a half months, another warrior baby was born. They were all very quarrelsome. Soon they were fighting and causing trouble all over the land.

  By the beginning of their second year in Ireland, Cymidei’s children were causing so much trouble that people started to hate them.

  By the time the second year was halfway through, people had had enough. They went to see the king.

  ‘Lord,’ they said. ‘We had a peaceful life before these giants came. There was no war in our land. But they make too much trouble. You must get rid of them!’

  The king was worried. He said, ‘But I invited them here. They are my guests. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Get rid of them, or we’ll get rid of you, and we’ll choose another king!’ shouted the people.

  ‘I will ask my wise men what to do about them,’ said the king sadly.

  The wise men told the king, ‘If you want to keep your crown, you must get rid of the giants. But it won’t be easy. They will not go if you ask them. They like living here too much. And they won’t go back in the lake again, that’s for sure.’

  ‘So what can I do?’ asked the king.

  One of the wise men had a terrible idea. He said, ‘We will build a roundhouse made of iron, and invite Llasar and Cymidei and all the troublesome children to go inside for a feast.

  ‘Then we will call all the blacksmiths, and the bronzesmiths, and the silversmiths, and even the goldsmiths. We will tell them to bring their hammers and their tongs and their bellows.

  ‘We will put charcoal all round the outside of the iron house and then we will light a great fire. The smiths will blow on the fire with their bellows until the house is red-hot. Those troublesome giants will not come out of there alive.’

  The king thought it sounded awful, but he could not think of anything else to do, and he did not want to lose his crown. So he agreed.

  All the builders in the kingdom came. They built a roundhouse with iron walls and an iron roof.

  All the cooks in the kingdom came. They cooked an enormous feast and put it in the roundhouse.

  All the charcoal-burners in the kingdom came. They piled up baskets and buckets full of charcoal against the iron walls of the roundhouse.

  Then the king invited Llasar and Cymidei and all their troublesome children to go inside. When they saw the feast, they sat down at once and started to eat and drink. The king quietly closed the iron door behind them. They didn’t even notice, they were so busy eating …

  Now all the smiths in the kingdom came. They locked the iron door with an iron key. They put iron chains all around the iron house.

  They set fire to the charcoal and blew on the fire with their bellows until it was red-hot. The iron walls and roof began to glow red.

  The smiths kept pumping their bellows to make the fire white-hot. The iron walls and roof began to glow white.

  The king said, ‘No one could live in that heat.’ He turned and walked sadly away.

  But Llasar, Cymidei and the children were all alive. They huddled in the middle of the roundhouse, as far from the white-hot walls as they could get.

  ‘This is a trap,’ said Cymidei.

  ‘Yes,’ said Llasar, ‘they have locked us in, and soon the roof will fall.’

  ‘What can we do?’ asked Cymidei.

  ‘If I’m quick, I can break through the wall,’ said Llasar. ‘You must follow me as closely as you can, and the children must follow you. It won’t be easy, but we will all get out if you all do exactly as I say.’

  Llasar looked around to check everyone was ready. He picked up the Cauldron of Rebirth and slung it on his back. ‘If this is how the king treats us, we’re not leaving the cauldron behind when we go,’ he said grimly.

  Then he ran at the wall. The iron in the heart of the fire was soft, and he easily broke through. Cymidei was right behind him.

  But the quarrelsome children were not. They were arguing about who should go next. They pushed and shoved each other, shouting and yelling. They didn’t follow their giant parents. And the next moment, the white-hot iron roof fell down on them. It was too late to get out.

  The smiths shouted in dismay when they saw the two giants escape, but Llasar and Cymidei didn’t stop. They ran and ran until they came to the seashore. Then at last they stopped, and looked out over the sea.

  ‘What’s on the other side of this sea?’ asked Llasar.

  ‘The Island of the Mighty,’ answered Cymidei. ‘The place where the Cauldron of Rebirth comes from. Let’s take it back.’

  Then she looked around. ‘Where are the children?’ she said.

  But she already knew the answer. ‘We’ve lost them all,’ she said, and giant tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Llasar put his arm around her. ‘We can’t stay here. We know we aren’t welcome. Come on, it’s time to go back underwater. We’ll walk along the seabed until we come to the Island of the Mighty. Let’s hope the people there will be kinder to us than the people here.’

  Cymidei dried her eyes and nodded.

  Hand in hand, without looking back at Ireland even once, the two giants waded out into the sea.

  They walked until their heads were like two islands with waves breaking all around them.

  They walked until their heads disappeared under the water, and their red and yellow hair swirled in the waves like seaweed.

  They walked until they disappeared under the waves.

  Along the seabed they walked, through seaweed forests with fish swimming through the branches like birds, going deeper and deeper, until they were in the very middle of the sea between Ireland and Britain. They kept walking until the sea got shallow again. They came out on the shore of Wales at Dinas Dinlle.

  They looked around at the new land.

  ‘What sort of welcome will we get here?’ asked Cymidei.

  ‘I think things will be different here,’ said Llasar. ‘The king of this land is a giant, like us. I think we will be welcome.’

  He was right.

  The king of the Island of the Mighty was Bran the Blessed, Bendigeidfran, who was so tall that there was no building anywhere in the land that was big enough for him. He was pleased to meet two more giants, and gave them a warm welcome.

  When Cymidei told him that she would have a baby every two and a half months, he just smiled and said, ‘We have plenty of room here in Wales. You and your children are all welcome.’

  Those quarrelsome children spread out all over the land and lived in small groups, and that way they did not cause too much trouble. They protected the people where they lived, and they did a good job, because they were the best men with the best weapons that anyone had seen.

  Llasar and Cymidei gave the Cauldron of Rebirth to King Bran, to thank him for making them feel at home. They told him how to use it.

  ‘I hope I never have to use it, ’ he said. ‘I hope there will never be a war.’

  So Llasar and Cymidei, the Keepers of the Cauldron of Rebirth, lived happily in Wales for the rest of their lives.

  10

  DANCING WITH

  THE FAIRIES

  Once upon a time, and it must have been a long time ago, there were two brothers who lived near Wrexham. They carried coal from Minera over the moor with their pony and cart, and this kept them
very busy.

  Usually they finished work before it grew dark, but when the long summer days came, they made as many journeys as they could. Sometimes they were still out on the moor as darkness fell.

  One summer night they were on their way home to Minera. The empty cart was rattling behind their little pony, and the full moon made the night almost as bright as day, so that they could easily follow the path. They were both enjoying the peaceful night as they walked along beside the cart.

  Then Dylan stopped, listened, and asked, ‘Do you hear that, Dewi?’

  They both listened. They could hear music somewhere on the moor. They turned off the track, leaving the pony. It put its head down and started to eat the grass at the side of the path.

  The two boys came to the edge of a little dip in the moor, and peered over its side. To their astonishment, they saw a group of fairies dancing in a ring. They looked at the dancers, then at each other.

  Dewi had horror in his eyes. ‘The Fair Folk,’ he whispered. ‘We must get away!’

  But Dylan had stars in his. ‘Did you see her, Dewi, the girl with the long red hair? She looked at me. She smiled at me. She’s lovely, isn’t she? Watch, here she comes again!’

  Dewi was even more worried now than before. ‘Dylan, don’t be daft now. Look away. Look away. Oh … no …’

  He reached to grab his brother’s arm, but it was too late. Dylan, his eyes on the fairy dancer, was holding out his hand to her. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him over the edge of the dip and into the dancing ring.

  As soon as he was in the circle, the fairies made a spell of invisibility, and everyone, including Dylan, disappeared from sight.

  ‘Oh no! Oh no! What shall I do? What shall I do?’ muttered Dewi, running up and down helplessly on the edge of the dip. He did not dare to go down into it, because he was sure that the fairies were still there, even though he could not see them. If the fairies were still there, he thought, then Dylan must be too.

  He knew it would not be easy to rescue Dylan. But he knew too, that unless his brother escaped before dawn, the fairies could keep him for ever, and he would be lost.