... continued from ...
Later that evening, when Jenny and Lily had gone to bed, Tom was sipping a nightcap, gazing into the dying embers of the fire. His memory took him back to a late summer’s evening, more than twenty years before. He, Joe and Dave had spent the day down at the Sims farm, working their way through the barn and poultry houses searching for rats. Even then, the Sims’ didn’t like using poison as they knew it killed more than rats and they thought an instant death from a terrier shake was kinder for the rat than hours, maybe days, of suffering.
They had taken Joe’s three terriers, Pip, Squeek and Wilfred, Jack Russell, Border and Patterdale respectively. Joe’s father had been a Great War veteran and he had named the terrier pups after the old soldiers’ slang for the campaign medals they received. The terriers had considerable, if chaotic success in reducing the farm rat population. Also with them was Joe’s shaggy Lurcher Bess, in case they knocked up a rabbit. Bess looked down at the terrier antics with lofty disdain, chasing a rat being beneath her dignity. At the end of a long and enjoyable day, they picked up their reward, a gallon of cider each from the farm kitchen and headed slowly back towards the village.
The stubble in the fields was a golden orange and they cast long shadows before them as the sun set at their backs. The terriers were scouting along the hedge on their left and Tom, slightly ahead of the others, was leading Bess. The quiet was broken by a yelp and a hare broke from the hedge not more than twenty feet ahead of Tom. Instinctively, he bent to release Bess, but Joe grabbed his arm “Hold her Tom!” Bess lunged and the terriers set off after the hare, but they hadn’t a hope. It seemed the hare crossed the width of the field in just a few zig-zagging bounds and easily cleared the hedge at the other end, disappearing from sight. The terriers were left scrabbling and yelping at the base of the fence and it took a while to restore order.
When all was calm, no one spoke for a while. Tom didn’t know why Joe did what he did, but he had more sense than to question him. At last Joe broke the silence. Looking away, he said quietly “They are best left alone.” Tom was none the wiser. Dave, standing besides Joe chipped in “Tell him about Arianwen Joe.” He winked at Tom and smiled. Joe looked at them both for a while as if making a decision, then nodded towards a fallen tree laying alongside the hedge. Joe sat himself down, getting out his pipe and tobacco pouch. Tom and Dave sat either side, and the terriers and Bess completed the circle, looking at Joe attentively, as if waiting for a biscuit. Dave had told Tom that more than once he had come across Joe, telling stories to the dogs and no-one else in sight.
Joe took out a match and drew on the pipe, his thick grey moustache and hawk-like nose lit up by the glow. “When the people lived on the hill” he began, pointing at the old hill fort with the stem of his pipe, “the head man up there had two beautiful daughters. Arianwen was slim and graceful, with long flaxen hair down to her waist. She was innocent and kind to all, even animals, sometimes secretly freeing them from the hunters’ traps. The people loved her and they said the creatures of the forest did too. Arianwen was devout too, for the people of the time, respecting their gods and goddesses, particularly the moon goddess Nimue, as she had been born under a full moon. Her sister Brangwen was just as beautiful, but more womanly and beguiling, with shining black hair. Brangwen though, thought only of herself and her own needs and she was jealous of her sister. From the time they had been small girls, she had played mean tricks on her.
Arianwen and a young man, Rhys, had fallen in love and of this, Brangwen was jealous too. Arianwen was happy walking to the Great Hall through the snow on the night of the Midwinter celebrations, as she would see Rhys there and it would not be long until they would be wed, under the May moon, as was their custom. In the Hall, Brangwen was speaking to Rhys near the fire when she saw her sister come in through the door, a smile upon her face when she saw them.
Brangwen, looking up at the green boughs above them, said to Rhys “You must kiss me under the mistletoe, for friendship’s sake”. Rhys, who had his back to the door, leaned forward to kiss her lightly, for it would have been an insult not too. Brangwen though, held him and pulled him close, kissing him passionately. Rhys, feeling the warmth and softness of her body and made foolish by ale, briefly returned her kiss with passion, but quickly coming to his senses, he pushed her away.
Brangwen was smiling, but not at Rhys, she was looking over his shoulder. Turning, he saw Arianwen in the doorway, her face stricken with betrayal and grief. Rhys called her name, but she turned from him and rushed out into the snow. He chased after her and others joined in too, but it seemed that a madness was upon her and as she turned this way and that, they could not catch her. With horror they watched as she ran towards the North end of the camp and without a backward glance, under the bright full moon, leapt into the Black Gap. The people rushed to the edge, but none could see her. Some claimed they saw a silver-white hare leaping away from the place where she had fallen. Her body was never found.
The people believed that for her virtue and devotion the moon goddess had spared Arianwen from death and turned her into a hare. Now the people grieved for their loss and made offerings to the goddess, asking for the return of Arianwen. The goddess granted their wish, but as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. Arianwen was allowed to return to her people, but only as a hare during the months of the Midwinter moon and the May moon. She was not human any more, she was the hare spirit which had to do the bidding of the goddess. The people learned that if they followed the white hare during the month of the Midwinter moon, they could be lead to their deaths or madness by her, not because it was evil, but because it saw death in the world and thought that was what the goddess wanted her to bring to the people. The people also learned that if you saw the brown hare under the May moon it could bring life and fertility because that is what it saw in the World at that time. Maybe in Arianwen, ancient memories stirred and she thought of the children she never had herself.
Brangwen was never seen again, in human form anyway. Her people believed that as punishment for her evil deed, the Moon goddess turned her into a Raven and that for eternity she was cursed to fly the cliffs of Bwlch Ddu, calling for her sister. You can still hear her to this day.”
They all sat in silence for a minute or two looking at each other, dogs and men. At last Tom spoke and smiled “they made up some stories in those days”. Joe didn’t say anything, he just knocked the ash from his pipe against the fallen tree trunk. “Your mother said she saw the hare, didn’t she Joe?” Dave asked. Joe looked at him and could see he wasn’t trying to be funny. Joe stood up and said quietly “My mother and father tried for a child for fifteen years. The doctors told my mother she would never have any children. One May night under a full moon, she walked through the bluebells up at the old Fort and she saw the brown hare. Nine months later, I was born. Anyway, like I said, they are best left alone. Let’s go and have a pint”.
Tom remembered it as if it were yesterday. He got out of his chair, raised his glass to Joe’s photo on the mantle piece, drained the last drop of whiskey and went upstairs. As was his habit, he stopped to look in on Lily. She was fast asleep and Nelson was in his usual place at her side, where he had been all evening of course. The December moon rising over Buckley wood threw a pale light through the window onto Nelson’s white coat. He stroked the little terrier gently on the head for a moment, Nelson watching him through his black-circled eye. “It’s a busy day tomorrow boy”, he whispered and headed for his own bed.
William never mentioned the incident to Tom again, or anyone else as far as he knew. The memories of children are brief, each new adventure quickly replacing the last, like the turning pages of a book. Often though, such memories come back clearly in later life, like a childhood story read again, long after youth has passed. Maybe William just thought that his adventure was the price he had to pay for being the hero of the mistletoe and receiving a kiss from Lily, under the bough, on Christmas morning.
John Howells © 2014
Written for Pawsitively Terriers
Reprinted here with permission of his Executors
Footnote for the curious:-
Various cultures around the World and their legends have associated the hare with the moon, the circle of life and death and madness. This was true of Celtic peoples. “The Hare and the Raven” is my own invention, but there are similar folk tales of Celtic Britain of lovelorn maidens being turned into hares.
Nimue (Nim-oo-ay) was a celtic moon goddess. Arianwen (Welsh), means silver and white/pure. Brangwen ( Welsh ) means fair raven.
Bwlch Ddu ( Welsh ) means black gap and is pronounced boolkth thee,or near enough.
Part 3 - The Hare and the Raven
Later that evening, when Jenny and Lily had gone to bed, Tom was sipping a nightcap, gazing into the dying embers of the fire. His memory took him back to a late summer’s evening, more than twenty years before. He, Joe and Dave had spent the day down at the Sims farm, working their way through the barn and poultry houses searching for rats. Even then, the Sims’ didn’t like using poison as they knew it killed more than rats and they thought an instant death from a terrier shake was kinder for the rat than hours, maybe days, of suffering.
They had taken Joe’s three terriers, Pip, Squeek and Wilfred, Jack Russell, Border and Patterdale respectively. Joe’s father had been a Great War veteran and he had named the terrier pups after the old soldiers’ slang for the campaign medals they received. The terriers had considerable, if chaotic success in reducing the farm rat population. Also with them was Joe’s shaggy Lurcher Bess, in case they knocked up a rabbit. Bess looked down at the terrier antics with lofty disdain, chasing a rat being beneath her dignity. At the end of a long and enjoyable day, they picked up their reward, a gallon of cider each from the farm kitchen and headed slowly back towards the village.
The stubble in the fields was a golden orange and they cast long shadows before them as the sun set at their backs. The terriers were scouting along the hedge on their left and Tom, slightly ahead of the others, was leading Bess. The quiet was broken by a yelp and a hare broke from the hedge not more than twenty feet ahead of Tom. Instinctively, he bent to release Bess, but Joe grabbed his arm “Hold her Tom!” Bess lunged and the terriers set off after the hare, but they hadn’t a hope. It seemed the hare crossed the width of the field in just a few zig-zagging bounds and easily cleared the hedge at the other end, disappearing from sight. The terriers were left scrabbling and yelping at the base of the fence and it took a while to restore order.
When all was calm, no one spoke for a while. Tom didn’t know why Joe did what he did, but he had more sense than to question him. At last Joe broke the silence. Looking away, he said quietly “They are best left alone.” Tom was none the wiser. Dave, standing besides Joe chipped in “Tell him about Arianwen Joe.” He winked at Tom and smiled. Joe looked at them both for a while as if making a decision, then nodded towards a fallen tree laying alongside the hedge. Joe sat himself down, getting out his pipe and tobacco pouch. Tom and Dave sat either side, and the terriers and Bess completed the circle, looking at Joe attentively, as if waiting for a biscuit. Dave had told Tom that more than once he had come across Joe, telling stories to the dogs and no-one else in sight.
Joe took out a match and drew on the pipe, his thick grey moustache and hawk-like nose lit up by the glow. “When the people lived on the hill” he began, pointing at the old hill fort with the stem of his pipe, “the head man up there had two beautiful daughters. Arianwen was slim and graceful, with long flaxen hair down to her waist. She was innocent and kind to all, even animals, sometimes secretly freeing them from the hunters’ traps. The people loved her and they said the creatures of the forest did too. Arianwen was devout too, for the people of the time, respecting their gods and goddesses, particularly the moon goddess Nimue, as she had been born under a full moon. Her sister Brangwen was just as beautiful, but more womanly and beguiling, with shining black hair. Brangwen though, thought only of herself and her own needs and she was jealous of her sister. From the time they had been small girls, she had played mean tricks on her.
Arianwen and a young man, Rhys, had fallen in love and of this, Brangwen was jealous too. Arianwen was happy walking to the Great Hall through the snow on the night of the Midwinter celebrations, as she would see Rhys there and it would not be long until they would be wed, under the May moon, as was their custom. In the Hall, Brangwen was speaking to Rhys near the fire when she saw her sister come in through the door, a smile upon her face when she saw them.
Brangwen, looking up at the green boughs above them, said to Rhys “You must kiss me under the mistletoe, for friendship’s sake”. Rhys, who had his back to the door, leaned forward to kiss her lightly, for it would have been an insult not too. Brangwen though, held him and pulled him close, kissing him passionately. Rhys, feeling the warmth and softness of her body and made foolish by ale, briefly returned her kiss with passion, but quickly coming to his senses, he pushed her away.
Brangwen was smiling, but not at Rhys, she was looking over his shoulder. Turning, he saw Arianwen in the doorway, her face stricken with betrayal and grief. Rhys called her name, but she turned from him and rushed out into the snow. He chased after her and others joined in too, but it seemed that a madness was upon her and as she turned this way and that, they could not catch her. With horror they watched as she ran towards the North end of the camp and without a backward glance, under the bright full moon, leapt into the Black Gap. The people rushed to the edge, but none could see her. Some claimed they saw a silver-white hare leaping away from the place where she had fallen. Her body was never found.
The people believed that for her virtue and devotion the moon goddess had spared Arianwen from death and turned her into a hare. Now the people grieved for their loss and made offerings to the goddess, asking for the return of Arianwen. The goddess granted their wish, but as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. Arianwen was allowed to return to her people, but only as a hare during the months of the Midwinter moon and the May moon. She was not human any more, she was the hare spirit which had to do the bidding of the goddess. The people learned that if they followed the white hare during the month of the Midwinter moon, they could be lead to their deaths or madness by her, not because it was evil, but because it saw death in the world and thought that was what the goddess wanted her to bring to the people. The people also learned that if you saw the brown hare under the May moon it could bring life and fertility because that is what it saw in the World at that time. Maybe in Arianwen, ancient memories stirred and she thought of the children she never had herself.
Brangwen was never seen again, in human form anyway. Her people believed that as punishment for her evil deed, the Moon goddess turned her into a Raven and that for eternity she was cursed to fly the cliffs of Bwlch Ddu, calling for her sister. You can still hear her to this day.”
They all sat in silence for a minute or two looking at each other, dogs and men. At last Tom spoke and smiled “they made up some stories in those days”. Joe didn’t say anything, he just knocked the ash from his pipe against the fallen tree trunk. “Your mother said she saw the hare, didn’t she Joe?” Dave asked. Joe looked at him and could see he wasn’t trying to be funny. Joe stood up and said quietly “My mother and father tried for a child for fifteen years. The doctors told my mother she would never have any children. One May night under a full moon, she walked through the bluebells up at the old Fort and she saw the brown hare. Nine months later, I was born. Anyway, like I said, they are best left alone. Let’s go and have a pint”.
Tom remembered it as if it were yesterday. He got out of his chair, raised his glass to Joe’s photo on the mantle piece, drained the last drop of whiskey and went upstairs. As was his habit, he stopped to look in on Lily. She was fast asleep and Nelson was in his usual place at her side, where he had been all evening of course. The December moon rising over Buckley wood threw a pale light through the window onto Nelson’s white coat. He stroked the little terrier gently on the head for a moment, Nelson watching him through his black-circled eye. “It’s a busy day tomorrow boy”, he whispered and headed for his own bed.
William never mentioned the incident to Tom again, or anyone else as far as he knew. The memories of children are brief, each new adventure quickly replacing the last, like the turning pages of a book. Often though, such memories come back clearly in later life, like a childhood story read again, long after youth has passed. Maybe William just thought that his adventure was the price he had to pay for being the hero of the mistletoe and receiving a kiss from Lily, under the bough, on Christmas morning.
John Howells © 2014
Written for Pawsitively Terriers
Reprinted here with permission of his Executors
Footnote for the curious:-
Various cultures around the World and their legends have associated the hare with the moon, the circle of life and death and madness. This was true of Celtic peoples. “The Hare and the Raven” is my own invention, but there are similar folk tales of Celtic Britain of lovelorn maidens being turned into hares.
Nimue (Nim-oo-ay) was a celtic moon goddess. Arianwen (Welsh), means silver and white/pure. Brangwen ( Welsh ) means fair raven.
Bwlch Ddu ( Welsh ) means black gap and is pronounced boolkth thee,or near enough.
