Oxfordshire Folktales (8 page)

King Lludd had three brothers, but the one he loved best of all was Llevelys. Whereas Lludd was mighty in battle, Llevelys was mighty in wit and cunning. They were as thick as thieves together, until Llevelys took for a wife the daughter of the King of France, and crossed the Channel to rule there.

Then calamity struck. There fell upon the isle of Britain Three Plagues, the likes of which were never seen before.

The First Plague was this: a race called the Corannyeid infested the land, and they were able to hear the lightest whisper on the wind, so no one could plot against them.

The Second Plague was this: every May Eve a great scream went up, heard across the land – so terrible it was that it turned men’s hair white and weakened their sword-arms; it caused women to miscarry; children to go wild; and livestock, crops and trees to become barren.

The Third Plague was this: however much was held within the King’s stores, the fat of the land gathered from the tithe barns of Britain was gone after one night.

The people were desperate. Things could not continue like this!

Lludd consulted his council, and they advised him to consult his brother, the King of France, who was renowned for his wisdom. Yet where could they meet where they would not be heard? Lludd had an idea. He set sail across the English Channel and arranged to meet his brother half-way. Their ships met and the brothers embraced. Before they discussed their plans, Llevelys had a long bronze horn made and they spoke through this, but whatever was said came out the contrary. Wisdom became folly; love became hate. Llevelys perceived there was a devil frustrating them and knew what to do. A good, strong wine was poured through the horn to flush the devil out, so only truth could be heard.
In
vino veritas
indeed!

Now they could plan without hindrance. Llevelys had heard of the Three Plagues and knew what to do.

‘First take these insects and let them breed; then mash them together with water. Then summon together the Corannyeid and all the people of his realm under the pretence of making peace with them. Then you must scatter the water over the whole crowd and this will drive the enemy out but leave your own people unhurt.’

Then Llevelys explained the cause of the Second Plague: ‘The terrible scream is caused by two dragons fighting one another – a native and an invader: red, the British; Saxon, the white. Here is how you remedy it. Measure the length and breadth of the land and where you measure the exact centre dig a pit, fill it with mead, cover it with silk, and wait. The scent of the mead will draw the dragons out. Changing shape, they will fight over it until they grow exhausted, turn into two pigs, then they’ll fall into the mead pit, drink the mead and fall asleep. Wrap the pigs in the silk, place them in a stone chest and bury them in the strongest place on the island. As long as they remain there no plague shall befall Britain.’

‘As for the Third Plague – it is caused by a mighty magician, who places everyone under a sleeping spell and carries off the food and drink. Place a vat of cold water close by and if you grow sleepy step into the vat. This will keep you awake long enough to catch your culprit.’

Lludd thanked his wise brother and set off back to Britain to heal his kingdom of these Plagues.

Without wasting time he summoned all of his people and the Corannyeid together to broker peace. Meanwhile, he mashed the insects up, mixed them with water, and hid the contents. When everyone had gathered he threw the contents over the entire assembly. As it hit the Corannyeid, they squealed in pain for the mixture was poisonous to them. They fled. And his people were left unharmed. Result!

Next, he set about measuring the length and breadth of the land and he found the exact centre to be Oxford. Here, he had a pit dug and filled it with his finest mead. A piece of silk covered it. And the trap was set. Then the red and white dragons appeared, changing shape in a furious battle until, exhausted, they turned into pigs and plummeted into the mead-pit. There, they drank themselves to sleep. The sound of dragons snoring is a terrible thing! Lludd quickly gathered them up in the silk and placed them in a stone chest. Without sparing the horses, they were taken to the strongest place on the island, under Eyri in the north of Wales, Dinas Emrys, where they were buried. And there they remained, safe and sound.

Finally, Lludd ordered a great feast to be prepared and a vat of cold water placed next to it – he himself standing guard, armed with weapons. There was much feasting and fine entertainment and come the third watch of the night he grew drowsy, but he immersed himself in the icy water, which soon woke him up! In the middle of the night, an armoured giant with a basket on his back stole into the hall and starting helping himself to the feast, carrying off all the food and drink. Lludd marvelled that the basket could hold so much. He set off after the feast-thief, crying, ‘Stop! Stop!’ Lludd challenged him to a fight there and then, shirking not at the giant’s size. The giant threw his basket to the ground and set to it. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, but Lludd overcame his enemy and cast him down. The giant pleaded for his life. Lludd made him vow to make good his losses. The giant not only agreed to this, but also to be his loyal champion from then on.

And so Lludd had succeeded, with the help of his brother, to rid the land of the Three Plagues, and he ruled his kingdom in peace and prosperity for the length of his life. His name lives on – for he founded the city of Caer Lludd, which we know today as London.

And that’s a fact!

On the 26th of December, St Stephen’s Day, a strange and ancient custom is held in the hallowed halls of Queen’s College, Oxford – the Boar’s Head Feast. A stuffed wild boar, orange in its mouth, is brought in with great pomp and ceremony by three chefs followed by a solo singer, accompanied by torch-bearers and a choir. The soloist sings the Boar’s Head Carol, dating back to the fifteenth century.

While the verses are sung, the procession stand still; when the chorus is sung they move forward. Finally, the boar is presented on the high table to the Masters of the college. The Provost distributes herbs to the chorus and the orange goes to the soloist. Then the feast begins in earnest! This custom, dating back to the thirteenth century, is held to commemorate a famous anecdote in the history of the college.