In the late twelfth century, a widow lived at Blaensawdde, near Llanddeusant, Carmarthenshire. Her husband had died in the wars of independence from the English. Her only son spent time looking after the livestock. Their favourite place was near the small lake called LIyn-y-Fan Fach, in the shadow of the Black Mountain.
One day whilst walking along the edge of the lake. To his astonishment he saw, sitting on the unruffled surface of the water, a Lady. She was one of the most beautiful creatures that mortal eyes had ever seen. The young man just stood still with his eyes staring at the woman and unconsciously offered her the barley bread and cheese which he had with him.
Bewildered by a feeling of love for the Lady, he continued to hold his hand out to her. She glided near to him but gently refused the offer of the food. He tried to touch her, but she eluded him saying:
“Cras dy fara!
“Hard baked is thy bread!
"Nid hawdd fy nala”
‘Tis not easy to catch me”
She immediately dived under the water. The love-stricken youth returned home, desolate that he had lost someone, fairer than all the maidens of Myddfai.
When he had told his mother what had happened, she advised him to take some unbaked dough or ‘toes’ the next time, as there must be some kind of spell connected with hard-baked bread, ‘bara cras’, which prevented him catching the Lady.
Next morning, before the sun had gilded with its rays the peaks of the Fans, the young man was at the lake, not to look after his cattle, but seeking the same enchanting vision he had seen the day before. But he waited in vain, the surface of the lake being only graced by the ripples caused by a stiff breeze, and a cloud hung heavily on the summit of the Fan, adding gloom to his already distracted mind.
Hours passed and the day became warm and sunny, when suddenly he noticed his cattle on the precipitous slope on the opposite side of the lake. As he rushed over to them, to his inexpressible delight, the Lady appeared once more, more beautiful than ever.
He held his hand out to her, full of unbaked bread, which he offered from his heart with vows of eternal attachment. All of which were refused by her, saying:
“Llaith dy fara! “
Unbaked is thy bread!
Ti ni fynna.”
I will not have thee.”
But the smile that played on her face as the Lady vanished beneath the waters raised a hope in the man which stopped him despairing at her refusal. When he returned home, his mother suggested that next time his bread should be slightly baked, as this would probably please the mysterious being with whom he had fallen in love.
Impelled by an irresistible feeling, the youth left the house early the next morning and ran until he came to the edge of the lake where he waited with a feverish anxiety for the reappearance of his Lady. Many hours the youth waited, his flocks of sheep and cows wandering hither and thither, but all his thoughts and attention were directed at the lake for the reappearance of the Lady.
Day was fast turning into night and all hope of seeing the beautiful Lady was gone. The young man cast one last look over the waters when to his astonishment he saw seven cows walking on the water. They were followed by the maiden, who seemed even lovelier than ever. She approached the land and he rushed to meet her. A smile encouraged him to hold her hand and on his offering the bread, she accepted. After some persuasion she consented to become his bride, on condition that they should live together only until she received from him three blows without cause:
“Fri ergyd diachos.”
“Three causeless blows.”
Should he ever strike three such blows she would leave him forever. But he gladly agreed. Thus the Lady of the Lake agreed to become the young man’s wife. Her father gladly consented to the marriage giving a dowry of as many sheep, cattle, goats, and horses that his daughter could count without heaving or drawing in her breath. He added, however, that should the youth prove unkind to her, and strike her three times without cause, she should return to him and bring back all the livestock.
And so the marriage took place. When the time came for the Lady to count the animals, she counted by fives, as many times as possible in rapid succession till her breath was exhausted. After counting the sheep, cattle, goats and horses, the full number came out of the lake when called upon by the father. They went to live at a farm called Esgair Llaethdy, about a mile from Myddfai, where they lived in prosperity and happiness for several years, bearing three beautiful Sons.
One day they were to go to a Christening in the neighbourhood, but the wife was reluctant to go saying the distance was too far to walk. Her husband told her to fetch a horse from the field which she said she would do if he got her gloves from the house. When he returned from the house with the gloves he found that she had not moved. Jokingly he slapped her shoulder with the gloves saying, “Go, go.” Thus he had struck her the first time without cause.
On another occasion at a wedding, in the midst of mirth and merriment, she burst into tears and her husband touched her on the shoulder and asked what was wrong. “Now people are entering into trouble,” she said, “and your troubles are likely to start as you have struck me a second time.”
Years passed and their sons grew to become clever young men. The husband was ever watchful lest he should, in some trivial incident, strike his beloved wife again. She told him, as her love was as strong as ever, to take care for the final blow would, by an unalterable destiny over which she had no power, separate them forever.
It happened that one day they were at a funeral, where, in the middle of great mourning and grief, the Lady was happy and laughing. This so shocked her husband that he touched her saying, “Hush! hush! Don’t laugh.” She said that she laughed because people, when they died, go out of trouble. She then went out of the house saying, “The last blow has been struck, our marriage contract is broken and at an end! Farewell!”
She went back to Esgair Llaethdy and began to call the sheep, cattle, goats and horses that she had brought with her as a dowry. They all obeyed her call, even a little black calf that had been killed came alive and joined the others. The four great oxen ploughing in the field left their work when they heard their mistress call:
“Pedwar eidion glas “
The four grey oxen
Sydd ar y maes
That are in the field
Deuwch chwithau
Come you also
Yn iach adre!”
Quite well home!”
Away they all went across the mountains towards the lake from which they had come. On reaching the lake they disappeared beneath the water without leaving a trace except the furrow made by the plough drawn by the oxen.
What became of the ploughman when the oxen set off, or what happened to the disconsolate and ruined husband, is not handed down in legend. But of the sons it is said that they often wandered by the lake in the hope of seeing their mother. It happened that during one of these walks near Dol Howel, at the Mountain Gate, still called ‘Llidiad y Meddygon’, the Physicians’ gate, the mother appeared to the eldest son, Rhiwallon. She told him that his mission on earth was to be a benefactor of mankind by relieving them of pain and misery through the healing of all disease. To this end she supplied him with a bag full of prescriptions and instructions for the preservation of health. She prophesied that if he and his family followed those instructions clearly they would become the most skilful physicians in the country for many generations.
She appeared on several occasions to her sons and once accompanied them as far as Pant-y-Meddygon’, the Dingle of the Physicians, where she pointed out to them the various plants which grew there and revealed their medical properties and virtues. The knowledge she gave to her sons, together with their unrivalled skill, soon gained for them such celebrity that none ever possessed before them. And to ensure that that knowledge should not be lost, they wrote it down, for the benefit of mankind throughout the ages.
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Rhiwallon and his sons first became physicians to Lord Rhys Gryg who gave them rank, lands and privileges at Myddfai. Their fame soon spread and their services were in demand throughout the country. The descendants of this ancient family continued to practice medicine in Wales without a break until the middle of the eighteenth century, when the last lineal descendant died in 1743. The late Rice Williams, M.D., of Aberystwyth, who died in 1842, appears to have been the last of the Physicians descended from the mysterious Lady of Llyn-y-Fan Fach.