One day in the summer it came into the mind of Puil, Prince of Dyved, to go hunting, and the place in all the seven Cantrevs of Dyved that he chose to go hunting in was the Vale of the Cuch. Early in the morning he went there; he unloosed his hounds in the wood, he sounded his horn, and he began the chase.
As Puil followed his hounds he lost the companions who had come with him. Still he went on. He came in sight of a glade that was deep in the wood, and then he saw that he was alone. He heard the cry of hounds coming from a direction opposite to that in which his own hounds were going. And as his hounds came to the edge of that glade he saw a stag there; it was at bay before hounds that were not his. Then, as he came on with his hounds, those other hounds flung themselves on the stag and brought it down.
It was a great stag. Nevertheless, Puil did not examine it for a while, so taken was he with the sight of the hounds that had pulled the stag down. For these hounds had bodies that were shining white, and they had red ears, and as the whiteness of their bodies shone so did the redness of their ears glisten. Never in all the world had Puil seen hounds that were like these hounds. For a while he looked on them, and then he drove them off, and he set his own hounds to kill the stag.
Then, just as he had done this, he saw a horseman come out of the wood, riding toward him. He was on a large, light-gray steed, and he had a hunting horn around his neck; he wore a hunting dress that was of gray woolen. And when the horseman came near he spoke to Puil, saying: “Chieftain, I know who thou art—Puil, Prince of Dyved—but I shall not give thee any salutation.”
Then said Puil: “Art thou then of such great state that thou thinkest it beneath thee to give me salutations?” “I am of great state,” said the stranger, “but it is not the greatness of my state that prevents my giving thee salutations.” “What is it then?” asked Puil. “Thine own discourtesy and rude behavior,” answered the stranger.
Said Puil: “What rudeness and discourtesy have I shown, O Chieftain?” “Great rudeness and great discourtesy,” answered the stranger. “Greater rudeness and greater discourtesy I never saw than yours in driving away hounds that were killing a stag and then setting your own hounds upon it. That was indeed a great rudeness.” “A great rudeness indeed,” said Puil, acknowledging the wrong he had committed.
Then said Puil: “All that can be done I will do to redeem thy friendship, for I perceive that thou art of noble kind.” “A crowned King am I in the land that I come from,” said the stranger. “Lord,” said Puil, “show me how I may redeem thy friendship.”
Said the stranger: “I am Arawn, a King of Annuvin.1 Thou canst win my friendship by championing my cause. Know that Annuvin has another King, a King who makes war upon me. And if thou shouldst go into my realm and fight that King thou wouldst overthrow him, and the whole of the realm would be mine.” “Lord,” said Puil, “instruct me; tell me what thou wouldst have me do and I will do it to redeem thy friendship.”
The King of Annuvin then said to Puil: “I will put my own appearance upon thee and I will take thine appearance upon myself, for it is in my power to do these things. And in my semblance thou shalt go into my kingdom. There thou shalt stay for the space of a year from to-morrow, and thereafter we shall meet in this glade.” “Yes, Lord,” said Puil, “but how shall I discover him whom I am to do battle with?” “One year from this night,” said the King of Annuvin, “is the time fixed for combat between him and me. Be thou at the ford in my likeness. With one stroke that thou givest him he will lose life. And if he should ask thee to give another stroke, do not give it, no, not if he entreat thee even. If thou shouldst give another stroke he will be able to fight thee the next day as well as ever.” “If I go down to thy kingdom,” said Puil, “and stay there in thy semblance for a year and a day, what shall I do concerning my own dominions?” “As to that,” said the King of Annuvin, “I will cause, for I have such power, that no one in thy dominions, neither man nor woman, shall know but that I am thee. I will go there and rule in thy semblance and in thy stead.” “Then gladly,” said Puil, “will I go down into Annuvin, thy kingdom, and win thy friendship by doing what thou askest me to do.” “Clear shall be thy path, and nothing shall detain thee until thou comest into my kingdom, for I myself will be thy guide.” And saying this, the King of Annuvin, who had come into the wood with his hounds for no other purpose than to bring Puil into his realm on that day, conducted him into Annuvin.
And having brought him before the palace and the dwellings, he said: “Behold the court and the kingdom. All is in thy power from this day until a year from to-morrow. Enter the court; there is no one there who will not take thee for me. And when thou seest what is being done thou wilt know the customs of the place.” When he had said this the man who had been with Puil went from his sight.
Then Puil, Prince of Dyved, went into that strange court, and there he saw sleeping-rooms, and halls, and chambers, that were the most beautiful he had ever looked on. And there came pages to him who took off his hunting dress, and clothed him in a vesture of silk and gold. All who entered saluted him. Then they brought him into the feasting-hall, and he sat by the side of a lady who had on a yellow robe of shining satin, and who was the fairest woman that he had ever yet beheld. He spoke with her, and her speech was the wisest and the most cheerful that he had ever listened to. There were songs with the feasting. And of all the courts of Kings on the earth this court of Annuvin was, to the mind of Puil, the best supplied with food and drink, with vessels of gold and with royal jewels.
A year went by. Every day for Puil there was hunting and minstrelsy, there was feasting and discourse with wise and fair companions. And then there came the day on which the combat of the Kings was to take place, and even in the furthest parts of the realm the people were mindful of that day.
Puil went to the ford where the combat was to be, and the nobles of Arawn’s court went with him. And when they came to the ford they saw that Havgan, the King against whom the battle was to be, was coming from the other side. Then a knight arose and spake, saying: “Lords, this is a combat between two Kings, and between them only. Each claimeth of the other his land and territory. This combat will decide it. And do all of you stand aside and leave the fight to be between the Kings.”
Thereupon Puil in the semblance of Arawn approached Havgan. They were in the middle of the ford when they encountered. Puil struck Havgan on the center of the boss of his shield, so that his shield was broken in two, and his armor was broken, and Havgan himself was flung on the ground over the crupper of his horse, and he received a deadly blow. “O Chieftain,” he cried, “what right didst thou have to cause my death? I was not injuring thee in anything; I know not wherefore thou wouldst slay me. But since thou hast begun to slay me, complete thy work.” “Ah, Chieftain,” said Puil, “I may yet repent of what I have done to thee. But I will not strike thee another blow.” “My lords,” said Havgan then, “bear me hence, for my death has come, and I shall no more be able to uphold you.” “My nobles,” said Puil, speaking as Arawn, “take counsel, and let all who would be my subjects now come to my side. It is right that he who would come humbly should be received graciously, but he that doth not come with obedience shall be compelled by force of swords.” “Lord,” said the nobles, “there is no King over the whole of Annuvin but thee.” And thereupon they gave him homage. And Puil, in the likeness of Arawn, went through all the realm of Annuvin, and he received submission from those who had been Havgan’s subjects, so that the two halves of the kingdom were in his power.
Thereupon he went to keep his tryst with Arawn. When he came into the glade in the wood the King of Annuvin was there to meet him and each rejoiced to see the other. “Verily,” said Arawn, “may Heaven reward thee for what thou hast done for me. When thou comest thyself to thy own dominions,” said he, “thou wilt see what I have done for thee.”