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Faithful Gelert: The Welsh Historical Legend
| Article
# : |
19689 |
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Section : |
CULTURE
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| Issue
Date : |
9 / 1991 |
1,717 Words |
| Author
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Sheila K. Webster
Sheila K. Webster, a folklorist and professional writer, lives
in Bloomington, Indiana. |
Prince Llewelyn of Wales had a great hound named Gelert. The prince loved Gelert dearly, for the hound had always been a faithful friend, an untiring hunting partner, and a stalwart ally in battle. The prince also had a beautiful and loving wife and an infant son who was the light of his heart. His life was full.
One afternoon, while the princess was away from the castle, Prince Llewelyn sat beside the crib, watching his young son sleep and admiring the infant's rosy cheeks and delicate lashes. Llewelyn's beloved Gelert lay at his master's feet. Suddenly from across the hills and valleys came the sounds of hunting horns and hounds in full cry. The prince, eager for the chase, called for his horse and sword. Then he called Gelert to him and said, "Today, my friend, you'll not join the chase. I leave you a more important charge: You will guard the future Prince of Wales, my dear infant son. And though you'll miss the thrill of the hunt, you'll not miss its rewards, for I'll bring you back the choicest cut of venison from the best stag of the day." The Prince Llewelyn girded on his sword, mounted his horse, and set off after the game.
Only a short time had passed when Gelert heard a strange sound in the castle hall. As he caught the scent of a wolf, he growled a deep and fearsome growl, bared his fangs, and raised his hackles. Suddenly the beast leaped into the room, knocked over the crib, and slid across the slippery stone floor. Gelert pulled the infant prince to safety and turned to face the wolf. A fierce battle ensued; the hound was torn and gashed, but he finally prevailed with a mortal slash to the wolf's throat. Then Gelert retired to continue his watch and lick his wounds.
When evening came, Llewelyn returned to his bedchamber, eager to see his son and his old friend Gelert. But alas! His heart leaped to his throat when he entered the room, for it looked like the scene of a mighty battle. Draperies were torn from the windows, and tapestries from the walls. The crib was turned on its side, its bedding strewn across the floor and splashed with crimson. The baby was nowhere in sight and then Gelert came forward to meet his master; his head, which he usually carried high and happy and proud, hung slightly down, and his great jowls and neck and chest were smeared and spattered with blood.
In a frenzy of rage and grief, believing Gelert had betrayed their long friendship and killed the infant prince, Llewelyn drew his sword from its scabbard and plunged it into his dog's heart. Gelert sank to the floor, sounding one last
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