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finished by saying, 'Now I have told you all, please release my wife.'
Manawyddan glared at the Chief Druid, 'I am a fool if I let her go now.'
'What else do you wish?' sighed the Archdruid. 'Tell me and let there be an end to this matter between
us.'
'I wish that once the enchantment has been removed from the land there will never be another spell cast.'
-'You have my most solemn promise. Now will you let the mouse go?'
'Not yet,' stated Manawyddan firmly.
The Archdruid sighed. 'Are we to be at this all day? What else do you require?'
'One thing else,' replied Manawyddan. 'I require that no revenge be taken because of what has
happened here neither on Rhiannon, or Pryderi, or my lands, or people, or possessions, or the
creatures under my care.' He looked squarely in the Archdruid's eyes. 'Or upon myself.'
'A cunning thought, Lieu knows. For indeed, had you not struck on that at last, you would have suffered
far worse than anything you have suffered until now and all harm would be on your own head.'
Manawyddan shrugged. 'A man must protect himself however he can.'
'Now release my wife.'
'That I will not do until I see Rhiannon and Pryderi coming towards me with glad greetings.'
'Then look if you will,' said the Archdruid wearily. "They are coming even now.'
Pryderi and Rhiannon appeared; Manawyddan hurried to meet them and they greeted him gladly and
began to speak of what had happened to them all.
'I have done all you asked, and more than I would have done had you not asked,' implored the
Archdruid. 'Do the one thing I have asked and release my wife.'
'Gladly,' replied Manawyddan. And he opened his hand and the mouse ran free.
The Archdruid scooped it up and whispered some words in the ancient secret tongue into the mouse's
ear, and instantly the mouse began to change back into a comely woman whose belly swelled with the
child she was carrying.
Manawyddan looked around the land and saw that every house and holding was back where it should
be, complete with herds and flocks. And all the people were back where they should be, so that the land
was inhabited as once before. Indeed, it was as if nothing had changed at all.
Only Manawyddan knew differently.
Here ends the Mabinogi of Manawyddan, my friend Wolf. Yes, it is a sad story in many of its parts. But
I think you will agree that its end redeems.
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What is that you say? Yes, there is more to it than fust appears. How astute you are, O Wise Wolf. Of
course, there is always more than meets the eye, or ear. This tale conceals a secret at its heart.
He that has ears to hear, let him hear!
THREE
The ravens croak at me from the treetops. They speak rudely; no respecters of persons, they say, 'Why
do you not die, Son of Dust? Why do you cheat us of our meat?'
I am a king! How dare you affront me! How dare you slander me with insinuations!
Listen, Wolf friend, there is something I must tell you. . . Oh, but I cannot... I cannot! Forgive me.
Please, you must forgive me, I cannot tell it.
Well, I am in misery. The scant trickle of my little spring as it drips from the rock is as my very life, my
blood. Hear the bitter wind weeping among the cruel rock crags. Hear how it moans. Sometimes soft
and low, sometimes as if to tear at the roots of the world. Sometimes a sigh or a thin, crooning song from
the throat of a toothless hag.
I wander without sense or purpose: as if the aimless movement of my limbs is atonement for sins too
loathsome to utter, as if in the slow, purposeless shuffling of one foot after the other I will find some
release. Ha! There is no release!
Death, you have claimed all the others, why do you not claim me?
I shout. I rave. I cry into the depths of darkness and my voice falls into a pit of silence. There is no
answer. It is the unknowing silence of the grave.
It is the unyielding silence of despair, black and eternal.
I was a king. Iam a king. This rock I squat upon is all that is left to me; it is all my realm. Once better
lands were mine. Away in the wealthy southland I raised my throne and Dyfed nourished. Maelwys and I
were kings together, after the custom of the proud Cymry of old.
All the world turns back, turns back, turns again to the old ways, the forgotten yet familiar ways. In the
old ways there is certainty and solace, there is the empty form of comfort. But there is no peace.
Hear then if you will, friend Wolf, the story of a man.
There was a feast following that first victory. How my sword did shine! Oh, it was a beautiful thing.
Perhaps, I valued it too much. Perhaps, I tried too hard, attempted too much. But tell me, my Lord Jesu,
whoever has attempted more?
We burned the Irish warboats, throwing hi the corpses of the raiders before firing them and setting them
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adrift on the outrunning tide. The red flames danced and the black smoke rose to heaven and our hearts [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
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finished by saying, 'Now I have told you all, please release my wife.'
Manawyddan glared at the Chief Druid, 'I am a fool if I let her go now.'
'What else do you wish?' sighed the Archdruid. 'Tell me and let there be an end to this matter between
us.'
'I wish that once the enchantment has been removed from the land there will never be another spell cast.'
-'You have my most solemn promise. Now will you let the mouse go?'
'Not yet,' stated Manawyddan firmly.
The Archdruid sighed. 'Are we to be at this all day? What else do you require?'
'One thing else,' replied Manawyddan. 'I require that no revenge be taken because of what has
happened here neither on Rhiannon, or Pryderi, or my lands, or people, or possessions, or the
creatures under my care.' He looked squarely in the Archdruid's eyes. 'Or upon myself.'
'A cunning thought, Lieu knows. For indeed, had you not struck on that at last, you would have suffered
far worse than anything you have suffered until now and all harm would be on your own head.'
Manawyddan shrugged. 'A man must protect himself however he can.'
'Now release my wife.'
'That I will not do until I see Rhiannon and Pryderi coming towards me with glad greetings.'
'Then look if you will,' said the Archdruid wearily. "They are coming even now.'
Pryderi and Rhiannon appeared; Manawyddan hurried to meet them and they greeted him gladly and
began to speak of what had happened to them all.
'I have done all you asked, and more than I would have done had you not asked,' implored the
Archdruid. 'Do the one thing I have asked and release my wife.'
'Gladly,' replied Manawyddan. And he opened his hand and the mouse ran free.
The Archdruid scooped it up and whispered some words in the ancient secret tongue into the mouse's
ear, and instantly the mouse began to change back into a comely woman whose belly swelled with the
child she was carrying.
Manawyddan looked around the land and saw that every house and holding was back where it should
be, complete with herds and flocks. And all the people were back where they should be, so that the land
was inhabited as once before. Indeed, it was as if nothing had changed at all.
Only Manawyddan knew differently.
Here ends the Mabinogi of Manawyddan, my friend Wolf. Yes, it is a sad story in many of its parts. But
I think you will agree that its end redeems.
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What is that you say? Yes, there is more to it than fust appears. How astute you are, O Wise Wolf. Of
course, there is always more than meets the eye, or ear. This tale conceals a secret at its heart.
He that has ears to hear, let him hear!
THREE
The ravens croak at me from the treetops. They speak rudely; no respecters of persons, they say, 'Why
do you not die, Son of Dust? Why do you cheat us of our meat?'
I am a king! How dare you affront me! How dare you slander me with insinuations!
Listen, Wolf friend, there is something I must tell you. . . Oh, but I cannot... I cannot! Forgive me.
Please, you must forgive me, I cannot tell it.
Well, I am in misery. The scant trickle of my little spring as it drips from the rock is as my very life, my
blood. Hear the bitter wind weeping among the cruel rock crags. Hear how it moans. Sometimes soft
and low, sometimes as if to tear at the roots of the world. Sometimes a sigh or a thin, crooning song from
the throat of a toothless hag.
I wander without sense or purpose: as if the aimless movement of my limbs is atonement for sins too
loathsome to utter, as if in the slow, purposeless shuffling of one foot after the other I will find some
release. Ha! There is no release!
Death, you have claimed all the others, why do you not claim me?
I shout. I rave. I cry into the depths of darkness and my voice falls into a pit of silence. There is no
answer. It is the unknowing silence of the grave.
It is the unyielding silence of despair, black and eternal.
I was a king. Iam a king. This rock I squat upon is all that is left to me; it is all my realm. Once better
lands were mine. Away in the wealthy southland I raised my throne and Dyfed nourished. Maelwys and I
were kings together, after the custom of the proud Cymry of old.
All the world turns back, turns back, turns again to the old ways, the forgotten yet familiar ways. In the
old ways there is certainty and solace, there is the empty form of comfort. But there is no peace.
Hear then if you will, friend Wolf, the story of a man.
There was a feast following that first victory. How my sword did shine! Oh, it was a beautiful thing.
Perhaps, I valued it too much. Perhaps, I tried too hard, attempted too much. But tell me, my Lord Jesu,
whoever has attempted more?
We burned the Irish warboats, throwing hi the corpses of the raiders before firing them and setting them
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adrift on the outrunning tide. The red flames danced and the black smoke rose to heaven and our hearts [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]