As the disciple of their shrine’s chief bard, Caelym had spent his formative years memorizing the hundreds of interconnected stories, songs, and odes that, taken together, comprised the nine major sagas that lay at the heart of the belief system of the followers of the Great Mother Goddess.
Dismissed by outsiders as fables and fairy tales, those sagas were historical accounts to the Druids of Llwddawanden, and the heroes and villains in them were as important to Caelym as his direct ancestors (which many of the more notable protagonists were said to be).
Besides the divine, semi-divine, and high-born moral characters, there were myriad less significant beings—loyal servants, greedy merchants, kindly shepherds, or wily wood spirits—with only minor roles to play. It was the mark of a master bard that even the least important character in the most obscure tale had a unique name and some attribute that gave each of them an added dimension—not enough to distract from the major characters or the central theme, but enough to give depth and color to the story, and sometimes explain a crucial turn of events.
There was no question in Caelym’s mind that their shrine’s chief bard was numbered among the supreme storytellers of all times, or that “Trystwn and the Great Stallion” (or the “Horses’ Tale,” as it was usually called)—disregarded by some as merely a minor episode in a larger saga—conveyed an invaluable lesson despite its centering on a lesser sprite whose self-indulgence and lack of consideration for others led to his downfall. Now, looking down at the expectant faces of his two sons, their eyes sparkling in the light of the campfire, he began to tell the story as Herrwn had told it to him twenty years before.
Long ago, in the time before the feud began between men and animals and we could all still talk to each other, there was a herd of wonderful wild horses that lived in a lush green valley high up in the towering mountains. While all the horses in the herd were beautiful, their leader, a great golden stallion, and the stallion’s two sons, a silver-gray yearling and a copper-red colt, were the most beautiful of all. The great stallion was not just beautiful, he was also wise and judicious, and under his shrewd leadership the herd prospered and was very happy until a wood sprite named Bervin moved into the valley.
On the day Bervin arrived, the horses were browsing peacefully on the hillside. Looking up and seeing the sprite coming over the top of the rise, they waited for him to approach their great stallion, introduce himself, and ask their permission to make his home in their valley. But he never did. Instead, he went into the middle of the richest meadow in the valley, next to the crystal-clear waters of their favorite drinking pool, and, without saying, “May I?” or “Do you have any objection?” or “By your leave,” cut down the beautiful grove of whispering aspen where they rested in the heat of the summer afternoons to build himself a house.
Offended, the great stallion sent his younger son to complain to the sprite about this abuse of their hospitality, but Bervin pretended that he didn’t understand horse speech and went on doing whatever he wished.
The next morning, when Bervin went to take a bath in the lake, the water was too cold, so he worked a spell to heat it up. It became so hot that all the fish in the lake were boiled. Bervin saw this and was pleased, since it saved him the trouble of making a fire to cook his breakfast.
Seeing the pool befouled and reeking from the leftover dead fish, the great stallion sent his older son to complain that now they couldn’t drink the water, but Bervin didn’t care, since he only drank wine brewed from thistle berries, and he threw a rock at the great stallion’s son to drive him away.
Later that day, Bervin set out across the valley, looking for a place away from the smell of rotting fish to build another house. Flies were swarming and their buzzing bothered him, so he cast a spell that made clouds from the mountaintops gather up snow from the peaks and cover the valley floor in a thick layer of snow that killed all the insects. Since sprites can walk on the softest snow as easily as on solid ground, Bervin continued on his way, heedless of what trouble the snow meant to the horses.
This time the great stallion went himself to complain that his herd was trapped and foundering in the snowbanks, and that they would starve without the summer grass to eat! But Bervin didn’t care because he didn’t eat grass and didn’t see why anyone would—and also because he had magical powers and the horses didn’t. He dismissed the great stallion as if he were no more than a common cart horse.
By this time, the entire herd was outraged. They were stamping their feet and gnashing their teeth and crying out for revenge. The great stallion called for calm, reminding them that Bervin was right about one thing—that he had magical powers and they didn’t. While true, these words added to the horses’ anger, and some of the mares began to mutter amongst themselves that if the great stallion couldn’t do anything about the nasty little sprite, then they’d find a stallion that could!
“I will find a way but need some peace and some time to think!” With that, the great stallion galloped away from the herd and up the side of the highest ridge above the valley.
From his lookout, he saw a figure in the distance coming toward the valley’s entrance. Not only was the great stallion strong, beautiful, and wise, he also had eyes as sharp as an eagle’s. He could see that the distant figure was not any ordinary wanderer but a hero, his golden hair flowing down his shoulders and his shield and armor sparkling in the sunlight.
It was Trystwn, son of the Great Mother Goddess by one of her most beloved mortal lovers, and the great stallion guessed rightly that he was coming to the valley in search of a horse to ride into battle against the giants of the northern mountains.
The great stallion moved so that he was hidden behind the trees and looked out. He watched as Trystwn cut down willow branches to build a pen and worked magic to make it invisible. The great stallion watched and waited until the trap was finished, and then he cantered back to where his herd was gathered and waiting for him.
They expected him to lead them off to safety, but instead the great stallion sent his younger son into Trystwn’s trap, telling him that when he was captured, he was to plead for his freedom and promise to send a faster, stronger, and more beautiful horse in his place.
The stallion’s younger son did as he was told, and when he pleaded for his freedom, Trystwn made him swear an oath that he would do as he promised and let him go.
Then the great stallion sent his older son into Trystwn’s trap, again telling him that when he was captured, he was to plead for his freedom and promise, as his brother had, to send a faster, stronger, and more beautiful horse in his place.
The stallion’s older son also did as he was told, and again Trystwn was persuaded to let him go after swearing to keep his promise.
The third time, the great stallion went into the hero’s trap himself. When he was captured, he bowed low before Trystwn and pleaded for his freedom, offering to give the hero a faster, stronger, and more beautiful horse in his place. The great stallion was bigger and stronger and more beautiful than any horse that Trystwn had ever seen, so, as he could not believe there was a more wonderful horse anywhere, he demanded that the great stallion show him this steed before he would set him free.
The great stallion, who remained kneeling, told Trystwn to get onto his back. Once the hero was mounted, the great stallion leaped over the trap’s invisible gate and landed lightly on the other side, his hooves skipping across the ground. Together, they rode like the wind across the valley and into a glen where, from behind a thicket of hornberry bushes, they could see Bervin bathing in a steaming pool.
“That is no beautiful stallion,” Trystwn said, dark-faced and angry, “That is nothing but a common, ordinary sprite—and an ugly one at that!”
It was then that the great stallion sprang his trap.
“That is no sprite,” he said. “That is my older brother, a golden stallion so beautiful that the Sun himself was jealous and turned him into a homely sprite.”
Then the great stallion bit off a hair from his own tail and gave it to Trystwn, telling him to take the hair and use his magic powers to turn Bervin back into a horse—only adding that he must do this in stealth, so as not to let the Sun see what he was doing.
So Trystwn crept to the edge of the pool, keeping down so that he was hidden in the reeds, and he dropped the hair from the chief horse’s tail into the water and said his magic words.
Bervin was finishing his bath, and as he rose up out of the water, his neck and arms grew longer, his face stretched out, and his hands and feet turned into hooves, and instead of standing on two legs he found himself on four. Growing tall enough to see over the reeds and the hornberry bush, he realized what was happening, and he tried to say the counter-spell and to curse the great stallion, but he could only neigh and whinny, for he had already turned into a horse that was everything that the great stallion had promised to Trystwn—a steed whose coat was the color of the sun, whose mane and tail were color of the moon, and whose eyes were as blue as the midday sky on a cloudless day, a horse that was bigger and stronger and more beautiful than any horse before or since. And so Trystwn mounted Bervin and rode off to the adventures that waited for him in other stories, leaving the great stallion and his herd to live in peace in their beautiful green valley.
As Caelym finished the story with the admonition Herrwn had spoken to him twenty years earlier—“And so now you must decide for yourself whether you will strive to understand the cares and needs of others or behave as though only your own wishes matter, as did that rude and selfish wood sprite”—Lliem drew in what began as a deep sigh but ended as a soft snore and drifted off into a dream where he and Ethelwen were riding on golden horses with silver wings and galloping up through the tops of trees and into the sky together.