The men of Ireland went to work, and they built a house that was vast and strong. But in building it they had a crafty device in mind. This was the device: on each side of the hundred pillars that were in the house they should put a bracket, and on each bracket they should place a leathern bag, and in every leathern bag they should have an armed man. And this was done so that the armed men might destroy the host of Britain when Bran and his people came within the great house.
Now there had come with Bran, Branwen’s two half-brothers, Nissen and Evnissen. Evnissen was the first to come into the vast house that the men of Ireland had built; he came into it before the host of the Island of the Mighty. He searched all through it with fierce and savage looks, and he descried the leathern bags which were around the pillars. “What is in this bag?” he asked of a man of Ireland. “Meal, good soul,” said the man. Then Evnissen put his hand upon the bag, and he felt about it until he came to the man’s head that was within the bag. He squeezed the head until the man was dead. He went from that bag, and he put his hand upon another, and he asked what was in it. “Meal, good soul,” said the man who was by the pillar. He felt about this bag until he felt the head of the man who was in it, and he squeezed that man’s head so that he died without making a groan. And from pillar to pillar and from bag to bag Evnissen went, squeezing and killing every armed man who was being hidden there.
It was then that the hosts came into the vast house. The men of Ireland entered on one side, and the men of the Island of the Mighty entered on the other, and they sat down, and there was peace between them. Then the sovereignty of the land was conferred upon Guern, Matholluch’s and Branwen’s son and great Bran’s nephew. And when the sovereignty was conferred on him, Bran called the boy unto him, and he took the boy upon his vast knee, and from Bran the boy went to Manawyddan, and he was beloved by all who beheld him. To Nissen he went then, and he went to him lovingly, and by him he was caressed, and with him he stayed.
Then said the savage Evnissen: “Wherefore comes not my nephew, the son of my sister, to me? Though he were not King of Ireland, yet willingly would I fondle the boy.” “Cheerfully let him go to thee,” said Bran, and the boy went to Evnissen.
And when he took him in his arms Evnissen said in his savage heart that the slaughter that was about to befall was unthought of by the hosts that were in the house. He arose; he took the boy by his feet and he flung him headlong into the fire. Then all hurried to the fire, and all hurried about the vast house; never was there so great a tumult in any house before as was made by them then, as each man armed himself. And while they all sought their arms, Bran supported Branwen between his shield and his shoulder.
Then, in that vast house, there began a battle between the men of Britain and the men of Ireland. The men of Ireland had an advantage in that battle: the cauldron that Bran, before this, had given to Matholluch was in their possession. They kindled a fire under it, and they cast the dead bodies into it until it was full, and the next day they came out of the Cauldron of Renovation, fighting men as good as before, except that they were not able to speak.
Evnissen cast himself amongst the dead bodies of the men of Ireland. After he had cast himself down, two unshod men came to where he was, and, taking him to be a man of Ireland, flung him into the cauldron. Then Evnissen stretched himself in the cauldron, so that he burst it into four pieces: he burst his own heart also in that effort; so died that savage-hearted man.
After that the men of Ireland who were slain did not come forth as fighting men the next day, and so the host of the Island of the Mighty gained success. But although they gained success, they were not victorious: out of their great host seven men only escaped; Bran himself was wounded, wounded in the foot by a poisoned dart.
It was then that Bran spoke to the seven followers who were left to him, commanding them to cut off his head. “And take my head,” said he, “and bear it unto the White Mount in London, and bury it there, with the face toward France. A long time you will be upon the road. In Harlech you will be feasting seven years, the Birds of Rhiannon singing unto you the while. And all that time this head of mine will be with you as pleasant company as ever it was when on my body. And in Penvro you will be fourscore years, and you may remain there, and the head with you uncorrupted, until you open the door that looks toward Cornwall. And after you have opened that door, there you may no longer tarry; set forth then to London to bury the head, and go straight forward.”
So they cut off the head of great Bran, who was also called Bran the Blessed, and the seven went forward therewith. Branwen was the eighth with them. They came to an island and they sat down to rest. And Branwen looked toward Ireland and toward the Island of the Mighty, to see if she could descry them. “Alas,” said she then, “woe is me that I was ever born; two islands have been destroyed because of me!” Then she uttered a groan that all the seven heard, and her heart broke, and she died! They made a four-sided grave for Branwen, and they buried her on the banks of the Alau.
Then the seven journeyed forward toward Harlech, bearing the head with them. And when they came to Harlech they met a multitude of men and women coming toward them and crying. “Have you any tidings?” Manawyddan asked of them. “We have none,” said the people, “except that Caswallon, the son of Beli, has conquered the Island of the Mighty, and is crowned King in London.” “And what has become,” the seven asked, “of Caradog, the son of Bran, and the seven knights who were left with him to guard the island?” “Caswallon came upon them, and slew six of the men, and Caradog’s heart broke for grief thereof; for he could see the sword that slew the men, but the hand that wielded the sword he could not see. Caswallon had flung upon him the Veil of Illusion, so that no one could see him slay the men, but the sword only could they see.”
Then the seven men with the head of Bran the Blessed went on to Harlech, and there they stopped to rest, and meat and liquor were provided, and they sat down to eat and drink. And there came three birds, the Birds of Rhiannon, and began singing unto them a certain song, and all the songs they had ever heard were unpleasant compared to this song; and the birds seemed to them to be at a great distance from them over the sea, yet they appeared as distinct as if they were close by. And at the feast they stayed for seven years, and for seven years they heard the music of the Birds of Rhiannon.
At the end of seven years they went forth and they came into Penvro. And there they found a fair and regal spot overlooking the ocean; and a spacious hall was therein. They went into that hall, and two of its doors were open, but the third door was closed, that which looked toward Cornwall. “See, yonder,” said Manawyddan, “is the door that we may not open.” That night they feasted and were joyful, and of all they had seen of food laid before them, and of all they had heard of, they remembered nothing; neither of that nor of any sorrow whatsoever. And there they remained fourscore years, unconscious of having ever spent a time more joyous and mirthful. And never were they more weary than when at first they came into that hall, neither did they, any of them, know the time they had been there. And having the head with them, it was as if Bran had been with them himself. And because of the fourscore years spent there with the head of Bran, it was called “The Entertaining of the Noble Head.”
But a day came when one said to another: “Evil betide me if I do not open the door to know if that is true which is said concerning it.” So one opened the door and looked toward Cornwall. And then, when they had looked, they were conscious of all the ills and all the evils they had ever sustained, and of all the friends and companions they had lost from the time when the host of the Island of the Mighty went into Ireland, and of all the miseries that had befallen them. They were conscious of all these things as if all of them had befallen them on that spot, and especially were they conscious of the great ill that had come to them in the death of great Bran, their lord. And because of their perturbation they could not rest, but journeyed forth with the head toward London. They buried the head of great Bran in the White Mount, and when it was buried there they knew that no invasion could come across the sea to the Island while the head was in that concealment.
So ends the story concerning the wrong done unto Branwen, and concerning the entertainment of Bran, when the host of the sevenscore countries and ten countries went over to Ireland to avenge the wrong done unto Branwen; and concerning the seven years’ banquet in Harlech, and the singing of the Birds of Rhiannon, and the sojourning of the head of Bran for the space of fourscore years.