Arthur

The Irish king pulled on his chin, puffed out his cheeks, and cast an eye upon his beautiful wife. In her he found favour and so replied, 'As this is a strange thing from the beginning, it pleases me to have an end to it. Very well, I will return to Bran and hear him out.'

The Irish flew once more to the Island of the Mighty, but they were cautious and anxious lest any further insult befall them. Bran saw that they were listless at their food and conversation. 'My friend, you are not so light-hearted as you were before. Is it because you consider your compensation too small? If so, I will add as much as you like to make you happy.'

'Lugh reward you, lord, I believe you mean what you say.'

'I do. And as pledge of my word, I will give you my chief treasure, a great cauldron of gold wherein resides this peculiar property: if a slain warrior is put into the pot today, he will fight as well as ever on the morrow. Only, he will not be able to speak a word.'

King Sechlainn thanked Bran graciously and was so well pleased with his new treasure that he forgot the insult done him. The feast continued as many days as before, and an enjoyable feast it was. But the time came to take his leave, and the Irish king embraced the British king like a brother and said, 'Come you to my court when you will, lord, and I will return the favours you have accorded me tenfold. You may prove me in this, and I hope you do.'

Then, after many heartfelt farewells, King Sechlainn and Bronwen set out. Thirteen graceful Irish ships sailed from Aber Menei and flew away over the sea to Ierne where they were greeted joyously by one and all.

Soon it became voiced about all the kingdom that Sechlainn had taken a wife of rare and surpassing beauty. And everyone who came into his court from the first day received from Bronwen's hand a ring of gold, or a polished jewel, or a fine enamelled brooch, or some such treasured gift as would please them. Oh, and it was a marvellous sight to see these precious gifts being carried off!

Bronwen's renown as a kind and generous queen grew in the land, and small wonder. King Sechlainn's realm flourished as never before with goodness and peace. Great the honour thereof! And this king liked and loved his lady well.

In due time Bronwen's belly swelled with child which she bore most regally, and at the end gave birth to a son named Gwern. After the custom of those days, the boy was sent to the best house in all the realm to be reared as a nobleman ought.

Bronwen's cousin, Evnissyen, wicked as the night is long, bethought himself how things had turned out, and how Bran had healed the split he had made. And he became jealous of Sechlainn's happiness and good fortune. 'Govannon smite me with his hammer if I do not settle this matter between us for once and all.' And taking a small coracle, he set out at once for Ierne.

There are trouble makers in Ierne, just as everywhere else. And Evnissyen had no great difficulty finding them and stirring them up with hateful words and false promises.

This was only too easily done, for because of Queen Bronwen's kindness and honour, and the heir she had given their king, these small-souled creatures were already halfway down the trail to jealousy by reason of Sechlainn's happiness. In less time than it takes to tell it, the grumblers, led on by smooth Evnissyen, fastened on the insult done their king while in Bran's court. The more they thought about it – and they thought about little else – the angrier they became.

Did they keep their anger to themselves? No, they did not.

Very soon they were flapping their tongues here and there all over the realm, and causing others to do the same. This poison spread as it will do, and in time reached Sechlainn's ears. He grew sad to hear it, and at first refused to take offence at this insult that had been so handsomely redressed by the gift of the enchanted cauldron.

But the evil words did not cease. And as the waves pounding on the rock wear it down bit by bit to pebble size, so too after a time Sechlainn could no longer look at his beautiful queen without thinking of the wrong done him.

But the makers of trouble did not let it rest there. They continually hounded the poor king to his misery by demanding that the disgrace to his kingdom be avenged so that his honour, and theirs, might be restored.

In short, they raised such an uproar and ferment throughout Ierne that in the end unhappy Sechlainn yielded to them – more to earn a space of silence than anything else. And this is the revenge he took: Bronwen was struck once on the cheek and driven from his chamber. A queen no longer, she was given a place in the kitchen and made to cook for the court.

For this reason, the blow Bronwen suffered was ever after known as one of the Three Unjust Slaps of Britain.

But, as everyone knows, it could not stop there. 'Now lord,' said the malcontents, 'word of this must not reach Bran or he will surely come and make war on us to avenge his sister.'

'What do you propose?' asked Sechlainn sadly. He no longer cared what happened to him or his kingdom. The light had been snuffed from his life.

'You must forbid all ships from going to Ynys Prydein, and all ships coming from there must be seized, so that no one can take word to Bran. Do this and we will be happy at last.'

'You may be happy, but I will not. While you are at it you might as well call me Mallolwch, Most Wretched, from now on, for I can no longer be Sechlainn and feel the way I do.'

'That is your decision,' replied the evildoers. 'We certainly never wanted it this way.' But of course they did.

Evnissyen, having sown his evil far and wide, departed at once and no one knew where he had gone. Poor Bronwen, bereft of friendship and forsaken in her own house, grew weary and sick at heart. 'Lieu knows I have done nothing to deserve this. My kindness has been repaid with loneliness, and my generosity with endless work. This will not do at all.'

As it happened, Lieu, flying overhead in his accustomed form – that of a huge, black raven – heard Bronwen's lament. Well he remembered her former glory, and so swooped down to see if the affair might benefit from his intervention.

Alighting on Bronwen's kneading-trough as she toiled at the bread, he watched her with a bright black gem of an eye. She saw the raven and offered it a scrap of meat, which it gulped down at once and croaked its gratitude. She poured out some milk and gave it to the raven to drink, which it did with all speed. 'At least, my labours are appreciated by someone," sighed Bronwen mournfully. 'I give you good day, friend raven.'

Up spoke the raven. 'Daughter, who are you to toil without ceasing? Surely, you were born for better than this?'

'I am Bronwen, daughter of Llyr, and Bran the Blessed is my brother. You have spoken the truth, though you may not know it. For I was once a queen in my own land, and a queen here as well – and highly respected, though I say it myself.'

'What happened to bring you to this low estate?'

'You are wrong if you think that I caused my own undoing. I tell you truly, I am not loved in this place. Once, but no longer – owing to the wicked men who slandered me most cruelly.' She looked at the raven suspiciously. 'Not that it is anything to you.'

'Indeed, Sister, it is everything to me.'

'Who are you, bird, to take an interest in my sad plight?'

'Never mind about me. What are we to do about you?'

'A most vexing question. In vain have I sought for an answer through many long days of contemplation. For not only am I a slave here, no one may pass across the sea. My kinsmen might as well live in the Otherworld for all I can reach them.'