So saying, he turned around to meet an Archdruid with a score of ovates as retinue ranged behind him. 'Lieu give you good day,' said the Archdruid. 'What sort of work is my lord about?'

'If you must know, I am hanging a thief which has brought about my destruction,' replied Manawyddan.

'Forgive me, but you must be a fragile man indeed. For that appears to be a mouse in your hand.'

'It is a thief and destroyer, nonetheless,' snapped Manawyddan. 'Not that I should have to explain myself to you.'

'I require no explanation,' the Archdruid told him. 'But it grieves me full well to see a man of your obvious renown exacting punishment on a helpless creature.'

'Helpless is it? Where were you when this mouse and its myriad companions were devastating my fields and bringing about my demise?'

'As you are a reasonable man,' said the Archdruid, 'allow me to redeem the worthless creature. I will give you seven gold pieces to let it go.'

Manawyddan shook his head firmly. 'That will not do. I will not sell the mouse for any amount of gold.'

'Still, it is not seemly for a man of your rank to kill mice in this way,' countered the Archdruid. 'Therefore, let me give you seventy pieces of gold.'

'Shame on me if I sell it for twice that amount of gold!'

The Archdruid would not be put off. 'Nevertheless, good lord, I will not see you defile yourself by harming that animal. I will give you a hundred horses and a hundred men and a hundred fortresses.'

'I was lord of thousands,' replied Manawyddan. 'How should I take less than what I had?'

'As you will not accept that,' the Archdruid said, 'please name your price that I may meet it.'

'Well, there is a thing which might persuade me.'

'Name it and it is yours.'

'I wish the release of Rhiannon and Pryderi.'

'You shall have that,' promised the Archdruid.

'Between me and Lieu, that is not all.'

'What else then?'

'I wish the removal of the spell of enchantment from the realm of Dyfed and all my holdings.'

'You shall have that as well, only release the mouse unharmed.'

Manawyddan nodded slowly and looked into his hand. That I will do, only first I will know what this mouse is to you.'

The Archdruid sighed. 'Very well, you have the better of me. She is my wife – otherwise I would not ransom her.'

'Your wife!' cried Manawyddan. 'Am I to believe such a thing?'

'Believe it, lord, for it is true. I am the one who laid the enchantment upon your lands.'

'Who are you that you should seek my destruction?"

'I am Hen Dallpen, Chief of Druids in the Island of the Mighty,' replied the Archdruid. 'I acted against you out of revenge.'

'How so? What have I ever done to you?' For indeed, Manawyddan could think of nothing he had ever done to anger any man, be he priest or druid.

'You took the kingship of Bran the Blessed, and in this you did not obtain the blessing of the Learned Brotherhood. Therefore, I took it upon myself to enchant your kingdom, which I did.'

'I will say you did,' grumbled Manawyddan unhappily. 'What of my fields?'

'When some of those wlio follow me learned of the wheat, they begged me to turn them into mice in order that they might destroy your fields. The third night my own wife went with them, and she was heavy with child – although if she had not been so, you would not have caught her. But since she was and you did, I will give you Rhiannon and Pryderi and lift the spell from Dyfed and all your lands.' The Archdruid 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.

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!

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. I am 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.