Star of Mercia Part 3

Dewi Sant

"_O holy David, our bishop, take away our sadness._"

David strode along the winding road: his feet were bare, his head was bare and tonsured, and one garment, of coa.r.s.e felt, but snowy white, was his only bodily covering. The sun beat down upon him; the sky, of a deep, throbbing blue, held few clouds, and they silvery and sweetly-curved as the breast-feathers of a dove; on his left, the sea dazzled; before and about him, small columns of dust twirled mischievously. David's eyes, dark and bright, feasted untiringly upon the life and growth around him, and he sang as he went.

"Dancing is the sea, the winds are dancing also: Breath of angels hath the sun-warmed hay, the poppies are out in scarlet.

Good thing it is for a man to strive in his lifetime.

"A mighty chorus echoeth from the bed of ocean: There is also the poem of the flight of birds.

Who would conquer sin, must learn praise and grat.i.tude.

"Who hath set the thrift in the rocks that are smooth and barren?

Who nourisheth the little sweet rose that maketh a garden of the sand-dunes?

How can a man wander, when for him the Love of G.o.d is nailed on high?

"The corn-ears are purple-ripe: Generous gifts bring the apple-boughs against the season of All Saints.

Very good is song, that giveth cheerfulness."

He turned him about, and looked back upon the whitewashed walls of Mynyw, his darling among his many foundations. To the little company of religious who followed his steps, he cried:

"I do think that of all the lands in all the world the fairest is our land of Cymru. And of all the parts of Cymru, look you, the fairest and the sweetest is this Dyfed."

Aidan, Teilo, Ismail, and some few more cl.u.s.tered round him. Said they all together:

"Indeed, indeed, blessed, holy father, blessed is our Dyfed!" and many were the looks of affection they cast upon their little abbot.

"I have been in the Holy Country," said David. "That is the very marvel of the world--a jewel set in the desert; but hard and bright, dear me!

there is unplayful it is! I can never give thanks enough, children, that I am permitted to dwell here where I was born."

So saying, he resumed his journey. They had left the monks' cultivated domain behind them, and were now in the shade of a broad lane between willows and hazels, where the mallows and the bellflowers grew rankly.

Of a sudden, the lane came to an end, and they emerged upon the little promontory below Porth Mawr. Carn Llidi loomed above them, on their right hand, and at its foot rose Ty Gwyn, the deserted college of Patrick, with its grave-stones round about it. In the western distance, far away, appeared a green fairy land, with the hazy forms of mountains melting into the skyline.

"Let us pray for our brethren of Ireland," said David, "of the Second Order of Saints."

About an hour later, David was still some few paces at the head of his people, and repeating to himself, hands folded, the prayers for the third hour after noon, when he felt his shoulder seized in a brawny grip, and he was forcibly twisted round until he faced a st.u.r.dy individual, with a broad, smiling red face, sandy hair, and twinkling green-grey eyes, and fully equipped with the war-sword, flowing robe, and shoes of dressed leather which only a n.o.bleman might wear. Near him were his retinue of hors.e.m.e.n, one of whom held the steed from which his lord had just dismounted.

"David, little cousin," was his greeting, "whither so fast, I pray thee, with thy chin to the ground? Have you mission to punish wrong-doers, O very powerful saint?"

"Why, kinsman Cadfan," David replied, "sweet is the sight of you to the eyes. It is seldom we meet now. But I am not abroad to deal with evildoers, look you. Dyfed, thanks be to G.o.d! is a very peaceful place; the religion of Christ reigns even in the farthest nooks. I have enough to do, kinsman, to order mine own house and the brethren and disciples over whom I rule. The bishops hold synod at Brefi, and I must be there with the rest; though little doing, say I, follows much talking."

"Hast indeed won all this land by thy words and wonders?" cried Cadfan, who, though he had great affection for David, could never, in his presence, master an uncontrollable desire to tease him. "Look that they deceive thee not, the pigs of Dyfed! and pay not double t.i.thes to their Druids, and turn to them first at birth and at death! What did I hear of thee and of a monstrous old stone? Some tale spread by women...."

"Dost thou doubt the power of G.o.d?" exclaimed David, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes. Then, as he caught sight of his interlocutor's face, he could not help smiling. "Cadfan, they would not give up the old stone of Cetti--slew beast and fowl upon it, to obtain prosperity, or for blessing or cursing, and slept beneath its shade that dreams might visit them! Then, on a day, when a great crowd was there a.s.sembled, I prayed, and took a sword in my hand, and climbed upon the old abomination, to the very top; and I smote with my sword in the face of all the people, and lo! the stone split in twain with a hideous scream.

Oh, joyful was my heart for that G.o.d had deigned to heed my supplication! And so was the unbelieving remnant drawn into the Church's fold."

"Well done, well done!" said his jovial kinsman.

"And the Gwyddel chieftains? Are they forbearing towards thee?"

"Boia is dead. Leschi came out of Ireland and slew him and all his in one night; and Leschi is for holy Church. But it was pity for Boia. He suffered us gladly, and I think would have hearkened to the word ere long. A brave soul! I say ma.s.s for him often, as Cattwg does for worthy Virgil. But the wicked shrew, his wife! she urged him with all her might against us; and when we would take no notice of her handmaidens whom she sent to bathe in the stream that runs before our very doors, one day she lured Dunawd her step-daughter to an ancient altar in a forsaken spot, and sacrificed her to the Siddi, her underground G.o.ds.

First sh.o.r.e off the little one's hair,[6] and then slit her throat! A sweet innocent child! who would come to our church door, to peep and to listen, and then flee shyly away. Alas! alas! a grievous happening!"

[6] In sign of dedication.

"And wilt thou spend all thy days in lonely Dyfed, little holy one? I did hear of thee at Afallach,[7] where Joseph's thorn grows. Didst thou not bestow there some very rich treasure? Would that not be a kingly centre for thee to dwell in?"

[7] Glas...o...b..ry.

"At Afallach left I the sapphire altar which I brought from Caer Salem.

Afallach will be great and famous, I doubt not; but, Mary be aiding! I will live and die yonder in Glyn Rhosyn, nursery of the dearest of my sons. Lonely we are, yes. We control no state policy, for Britain is the dominion of the Saxons; but Cymru shall render us thanks in days to come: we shall have great power of prayer."

"O cousin, it is marvel to me that thou canst thus go barefoot in the dust, and hang rough texture of the taeogion[8] about thee, and drink nought but tasteless water. I am but an ordinary man, and I would not forego my pleasures of everyday for any miracles which might be sung of down the ages. Well, well! each man to his own taste! I go to old Aunt Angharad, at Porth Mawr. The blessed woman! she has found me a dainty maid to wife, says she. Now speak me a blessing, David, and let me have your prayers."

[8] Villeins.

"Our Lord G.o.d be aiding thee, kinsman Cadfan! May He preserve to thee thy good tenderness of heart!"

"And may He prosper thee, my David! Fare thee well, little kinsman."

Cadfan departed on his way, and David and his companions set their faces northwards. They were not a solitary party. The road swarmed with priests and monks, and was trodden also by many laymen and some few women whom devotion or curiosity drew to the synod of the bishops at Brefi in Ceredigion. As evening drew on, the abbot-bishop of Menevia led his tired followers up the slope of a wooded hill, where he knew were dry caverns to pa.s.s the night in, and a spring of water. When they neared their proposed resting-place, a tonsured figure ran out from under the trees, and stood in their path-way, waving his arms.

David whistled to the mongrel greyhound that padded by his side. Then, suddenly, he hastened his steps, his face aglow.

"Padarn! Dear, dear me! My Padarn! Are ye many? Or may we spend this night with thee and thine in this G.o.d-given spot?"

"Well met, well met, David!" cried Padarn, "And well met all, ye road-stained travellers! There is surely room for all." He hurried through the thicket to the clearing before the rocky bank which the aforesaid caves perforated, calling out: "Brethren! whom see ye here, whom see ye? Look you, this is David of Mynyw. Teilo, he, and I did journey together to the holy Jerusalem, one in soul, in joy, and in sorrow; and is it not a gladsome thing that he should be here amongst us this night?"

An enthusiastic welcome ensued, and before long David, Teilo, Aidan, Ismail and the rest had been seated by the fire and supplied with food and drink. This was the Age of the Saints. Besides the newcomers there were some dozen holy men, whose names are living yet, sitting about upon the ground, each one bound for the great synod of the Cymric priesthood. In the mouth of the largest cave squatted an elderly man, sallow and wrinkled, with a beak-like nose and weary eyes; he had vellum, pen, and inkhorn, and wrote sedulously, giving himself no respite, with a heavy frown between his brows the while. David knew him for Gildas of Strathclyde, the apostle of Ruys in Lesser Britain.

They yielded early to their fatigue, and lay down where they best might, most of them within the shelter of the caves. Gildas put aside his pen.

"They are all mightily drunken with the use and custom of sins!" he thundered. "If I reckoned without pause for ten years, the scandals concerning the high men of Britain would not be enumerated--and concerning also our monks and ordained priests (Have mercy, have mercy, on us miserable sinners!). Our princes are a host of devils--nay, worse than devils, for have they not received the sign and sacrament of baptism? l.u.s.t, and pillage, and oppression are such as were never before since the creation of the world. Stinking to heaven is Gomorrah--I should say Aberffraw! And there dwells the most heinous, the Satan of them all--and that is Maelgwn Gwenedd!"

David yawned, said a prayer for his kinsman Maelgwn, stretched himself, and fell asleep.

At the first glimmer of dawn, they were awakened by the clanging of Gildas's bell. Their prayer said, David went to bathe in the brook near by. When he returned to the camp-fire, Gildas, his countenance sallower than usual, twisting and biting his lips, had just bent down to the simmering pot that hung over the flames, with a loaf of bread in his hand, when the mongrel grey-hound darted up to him, made an ecstatic leap, and s.n.a.t.c.hing the loaf in his teeth, rushed away with it down the hill-side.

David's laugh pealed loud and clear. The holy Gildas turned furiously upon a little boy, one of his pupils, who stood beside him rubbing sleepy eyes, and abused him for not giving his master warning of what he must have seen was likely to occur. The bishop of Mynyw ran as fast as he could after the thief. Some distance below, in the valley, he caught his dog, beat and scolded him, and possessed himself of the bread. In the village at the hill's foot, he admired a cottager's leeks, and was given a handful. He then re-ascended the hill.

"The sour-faced hawk!" thought he. "I am glad, very glad, he did not obtain the rule of Mynwy when he tried to supersede me, long ago!"

Gildas confronted him.

"Ill is thy laughter, Dewi mab Sandde!" he spluttered hoa.r.s.ely. "For a holy man of G.o.d--such conduct is light...."