Amongst all the characters of early British history
none is more interesting or occupies a more conspicuous
place, than the hero of this tale. Urien, his father, was
prince of Rheged, a district comprising the present
Cumberland and part of the adjacent country. His valor and
the consideration in which he was held are a frequent
theme of Bardic song, and form the subject of several very
spirited odes by Taliesin. Among the Triads there is one
relating to him; it is thus translated:-
"Three Knights of Battle were in the court of
Arthur: Cadwr the Earl of Cornwall, Launcelot du Lac, and
Owain the son of Urien. And this was their
characteristic,- that they would not retreat from battle,
neither for spear, nor for arrow, nor for sword. And
Arthur never had shame in battle the day he saw their
faces there. And they were called the Knights of
Battle."
"Now," quoth Owain, "would it not be
well to go and endeavor to discover that place?"
"By the hand of my friend," said Kay,
"often dost thou utter that with thy tongue which
thou wouldest not make good with thy deeds."
"In very truth," said Guenever, "it were
better thou wert hanged, Kay, than to use such uncourteous
speech towards a man like Owain."
"By the hand of my friend, good lady," said
Kay; "thy praise of Owain is not greater than
mine."
With that Arthur awoke, and asked if he had not been
sleeping a little.
"Yes, lord," answered Owain, "thou hast
slept awhile."
"Is it time for us to go to meat?"
"It is, lord," said Owain.
Then the horn for washing was sounded, and the king and
all his household sat down to eat. And when the meal was
ended, Owain withdrew to his lodging, and made ready his
horse and his arms.
On the morrow with the dawn of day he put on his armor,
and mounted his charger, and travelled through distant
lands, and over desert mountains. And at length he arrived
at the valley which Kynon had described to him, and he was
certain that it was the same that he sought. And
journeying along the valley, by the side of the river, he
followed its course till he came to the plain, and within
sight of the castle. When he approached the castle, he saw
the youths shooting with their bows, in the place where
Kynon had seen them, and the yellow man, to whom the
castle belonged, standing hard by. And no sooner had Owain
saluted the yellow man, than he was saluted by him in
return.
And he went forward towards the castle, and there he
saw the chamber; and when he had entered the chamber, he
beheld the maidens working at satin embroidery, in chains
of gold. And their beauty and their comeliness seemed to
Owain far greater than Kynon had represented to him. And
they arose to wait upon Owain, as they had done to Kynon.
And the meal which they set before him gave even more
satisfaction to Owain than it had done to Kynon.
About the middle of the repast the yellow man asked
Owain the object of his journey. And Owain made it known
to him, and said, "I am in quest of the knight who
guards the fountain." Upon this the yellow man
smiled, and said that he was as loath to point out that
adventure to him as he had been to Kynon. However, he
described the whole to Owain, and they retired to rest.
The next morning Owain found his horse made ready for
him by the damsels, and he set forward and came to the
glade where the black man was. And the stature of the
black man seemed more wonderful to Owain than it had done
to Kynon; and Owain asked of him his road, and he showed
it to him. And Owain followed the road till he came to the
green tree; and he beheld the fountain, and the slab
beside the fountain, and the bowl upon it. And Owain took
the bowl and threw a bowlful of water upon the slab. And,
lo! the thunder was heard, and after the thunder came the
shower, more violent than Kynon had described, and after
the shower the sky became bright. And immediately the
birds came and settled upon the tree and sang. And when
their song was most pleasing to Owain, he beheld a knight
coming towards him through the valley; and he prepared to
receive him, and encountered him violently. Having broken
both their lances, they drew their swords and fought blade
to blade. Then Owain struck the knight a blow through his
helmet, head-piece, and visor, and through the skin, and
the flesh, and the bone, until it wounded the very brain.
Then the black knight felt that he had received a mortal
wound, upon which he turned his horse's head and fled. And
Owain pursued him, and followed close upon him, although
he was not near enough to strike him with his sword.
Then Owain descried a vast and resplendent castle; and
they came to the castle gate. And the black knight was
allowed to enter, and the portcullis was let fall upon
Owain; and it struck his horse behind the saddle, and cut
him in two, and carried away the rowels of the spurs that
were upon Owain's heels. And the portcullis descended to
the floor. And the rowels of the spurs and part of the
horse were without, and Owain with the other part of the
horse remained between the two gates, and the inner gate
was closed, so that Owain could not go thence; and Owain
was in a perplexing situation. And while he was in this
state, he could see through an aperture in the gate a
street facing him, with a row of houses on each side. And
he beheld a maiden, with yellow, curling hair, and a
frontlet of gold upon her head; and she was clad in a
dress of yellow satin, and on her feet were shoes of
variegated leather. And she approached the gate, and
desired that it should be opened. "Heaven knows,
lady," said Owain, "it is no more possible for
me to open to thee from hence, than it is for thee to set
me free." And he told her his name, and who he was.
"Truly," said the damsel, "it is very sad
that thou canst not be released; and every woman ought to
succor thee, for I know there is no one more faithful in
the service of ladies than thou. Therefore," quoth
she, "whatever is in my power to do for thy release,
I will do it. Take this ring, and put it on thy finger,
with the stone inside thy hand, and close thy hand upon
the stone. And as long as thou concealest it, it will
conceal thee. When they come forth to fetch thee, they
will be much grieved that they cannot find thee. And I
will await thee on the horseblock yonder, and thou wilt be
able to see me, though I cannot see thee. Therefore come
and place thy hand upon my shoulder, that I may know that
thou art near me. And by the way that I go hence, do thou
accompany me."
Then the maiden went away from Owain, and he did all
that she had told him. And the people of the castle came
to seek Owain to put him to death; and when they found
nothing but the half of his horse, they were sorely
grieved.
And Owain vanished from among them, and went to the
maiden, and placed his hand upon her shoulder; whereupon
she set off, and Owain followed her, until they came to
the door of a large and beautiful chamber, and the maiden
opened it, and they went in. And Owain looked around the
chamber, and behold there was not a single nail in it that
was not painted with gorgeous colors, and there was not a
single panel that had not sundry images in gold portrayed
upon it.
The maiden kindled a fire, and took water in a silver
bowl, and gave Owain water to wash. Then she placed before
him a silver table, inlaid with gold; upon which was a
cloth of yellow linen, and she brought him food. And, of a
truth, Owain never saw any kind of meat that was not there
in abundance, but it was better cooked there than he had
ever found it in any other place. And there was not one
vessel from which he was served that was not of gold or of
silver. And Owain ate and drank until late in the
afternoon, when, lo! they heard a mighty clamor in the
castle, and Owain asked the maiden what it was. "They
are administering extreme unction," said she,
"to the nobleman who owns the castle." And she
prepared a couch for Owain which was meet for Arthur
himself, and Owain went to sleep.
And a little after daybreak he heard an exceeding loud
clamor and wailing, and asked the maiden what was the
cause of it. "They are bearing to the church the body
of the nobleman who owned the castle."
And Owain rose up, and clothed himself, and opened a
window of the chamber, and looked towards the castle; and
he could see neither the bounds nor the extent of the
hosts that filled the streets. And they were fully armed;
and a vast number of women were with them, both on
horseback and on foot, and all the ecclesiastics in the
city singing. In the midst of the throng he beheld the
bier, over which was a veil of white linen; and wax tapers
were burning beside and around it; and none that supported
the bier was lower in rank than a powerful baron.
Never did Owain see an assemblage so gorgeous with
silk* and satin. And, following the train, he beheld a
lady with yellow hair falling over her shoulders, and
stained with blood; and about her a dress of yellow satin,
which was torn. Upon her feet were shoes of variegated
leather. And it was a marvel that the ends of her fingers
were not bruised from the violence with which she smote
her hands together. Truly she would have been the fairest
lady Owain ever saw had she been in her usual guise. And
her cry was louder than the shout of the men or the clamor
of the trumpets. No sooner had he beheld the lady than he
became inflamed with her love, so that it took entire
possession of him.
* Before the sixth century all the silk
used by Europeans had been brought to them by the Seres,
the ancestors of the present Boukharians, whence it
derived its Latin name of Serica. In 551 the silkworm was
brought by two monks to Constantinople; but the
manufacture of silk was confined to the Greek empire till
the year 1130, when Roger, king of Sicily, returning from
a crusade, collected some manufacturers from Athens and
Corinth, and established them at Palermo, whence the trade
was gradually disseminated over Italy. The varieties of
silk stuffs known at this time were velvet, satin (which
was called samite), and taffety (called cendal or
sendall), all of which were occasionally stitched with
gold and silver.
Then he inquired of the maiden who the lady was.
"Heaven knows," replied the maiden, "she is
the fairest, and the most chaste, and the most liberal,
and the most noble of women. She is my mistress, and she
is called the Countess of the Fountain, the wife of him
whom thou didst slay yesterday." "Verily,"
said Owain, "she is the woman that I love best."
"Verily," said the maiden, "she shall also
love thee, not a little."
Then the maiden prepared a repast for Owain, and truly
he thought he had never before so good a meal, nor was he
ever so well served. Then she left him, and went towards
the castle. When she came there she found nothing but
mourning and sorrow; and the Countess in her chamber could
not bear the sight of any one through grief. Luned, for
that was the name of the maiden, saluted her, but the
Countess answered her not. And the maiden bent down
towards her, and said, "What aileth thee that thou
answerest no one to-day?" "Luned," said the
Countess, "what change hath befallen thee that thou
hast not come to visit me in my grief? It was wrong in
thee, and I so sorely afflicted." "Truly,"
said Luned, "I thought thy good sense was greater
than I find it to be. Is it well for thee to mourn after
that good man, or for anything else that thou canst not
have?" "I declare to Heaven," said the
Countess, "that in the whole world there is not a man
equal to him." "Not so," said Luned,
"for an ugly man would be as good as, or better than
he." "I declare to Heaven," said the
Countess, "that were it not repugnant to me to put to
death one whom I have brought up I would have thee
executed for making such comparison to me. As it is, I
will banish thee." "I am glad," said Luned,
"that thou hast no other cause to do so than that I
would have been of service to thee, where thou didst not
know what was to thine advantage. Henceforth evil betide
whichever of us shall make the first advance towards
reconciliation to the other, whether I should seek an
invitation from thee, or thou of thine own accord shouldst
send to invite me."
With that Luned went forth; and the Countess arose and
followed her to the door of the chamber, and began
coughing loudly. And when Luned looked back the Countess
beckoned to her, and she returned to the Countess.
"In truth," said the Countess, "evil is thy
disposition; but if thou knowest what is to my advantage,
declare it to me." "I will do so," said
she.
"Thou knowest that, except by warfare and arms, it
is impossible for thee to preserve thy possessions; delay
not, therefore, to seek some one who can defend
them." "And how can I do that?" said the
Countess. "I will tell thee," said Luned;
"unless thou canst defend the fountain thou canst not
maintain thy dominions; and no one can defend the fountain
except it be a knight of Arthur's household. I will go to
Arthur's court, and ill betide me if I return not thence
with a warrior who can guard the fountain as well as, or
even better, than he who defended it formerly."
"That will be hard to perform," said the
Countess. "Go, however, and make proof of that which
thou hast promised."
Luned set out under the pretence of going to Arthur's
court; but she went back to the mansion where she had left
Owain, and she tarried there as long as it might have
taken her to travel to the court of King Arthur and back.
And at the end of that time she apparelled herself, and
went to visit the Countess. And the Countess was much
rejoiced when she saw her, and inquired what news she
brought from the court. "I bring thee the best of
news," said Luned, "for I have compassed the
object of my mission. When wilt thou that I should present
to thee the chieftain who has come with me thither?"
"Bring him here to visit me to-morrow," said the
Countess, "and I will cause the town to be assembled
by that time."
And Luned returned home. And the next day, at noon,
Owain arrayed himself in a coat and a surcoat, and a
mantle of yellow satin, upon which was a broad band of
gold lace; and on his feet were high shoes of variegated
leather, which were fastened by golden clasps, in the form
of lions. And they proceeded to the chamber of the
Countess.
Right glad was the Countess of their coming. And she
gazed steadfastly upon Owain, and said, "Luned, this
knight has not the look of a traveller." "What
harm is there in that, lady?" said Luned. "I am
certain," said the Countess, "that no other man
than this chased the soul from the body of my lord."
"So much the better for thee, lady," said Luned,
"for had he not been stronger than thy lord, he could
not have deprived him of life. There is no remedy for that
which is past, be it as it may." "Go back to
thine abode," said the Countess, "and I will
take counsel."
The next day the Countess caused all her subjects to
assemble, and showed them that her earldom was left
defenceless, and that it could not be protected but with
horse and arms, and military skill. "Therefore,"
said she, "this is what I offer for your choice:
either let one of you take me, or give your consent for me
to take a husband from elsewhere, to defend my
dominions."
So they came to the determination that it was better
that she should have permission to marry some one from
elsewhere; and thereupon she sent for the bishops and
archbishops, to celebrate her nuptials with Owain. And the
men of the earldom did Owain homage.
And Owain defended the fountain with lance and sword.
And this is the manner in which he defended it. Whensoever
a knight came there, he overthrew him, and sold him for
his full worth. And what he thus gained he divided among
his barons and his knights, and no man in the whole world
could be more beloved than he was by his subjects. And it
was thus for the space of three years.*
*
There exists an ancient poem, printed
among those of Taliesin, called the Elegy of Owain ap
Urien, and containing several very beautiful and spirited
passages. It commences:
"The soul of Owain ap Urien,
May its Lord consider its exigencies!
Reged's chief the green turf covers."
In the course of this Elegy, the bard, alluding to the
incessant welfare with which this chieftain harassed his
Saxon foes, exclaims:
"Could England sleep with the light upon her
eyes!"
