Today’s post is from the second book in The Druid Chronicles. It is told by the Druid shrine’s chief bard at the request (e.g. command) of the cult’s supreme priestess at a time when, unbeknownst to Herrwn, Feywn has made the controversial decision to send her infant daughter to be fostered outside of their valley sanctuary.
Acceding to Feywn’s unusual request, Herrwn began in the middle of story after a brief summation of the events that led up to ‘the part about the basket’, recalling for his listeners how Rhiddengwyn, the River Goddess, had fallen in love with the mortal hero, Seddwelyn, spurning the advances of the demon Maelgwin, how Maelgwin had pursued them in a jealous rage, finally slaying Seddwelyn whose valiant last stand had given Rhiddengwyn the chance to escape with the child of their union, a baby girl named Halfwen because she was half mortal, how Rhiddengwyn, clutching Halfwen to her breast, had raced for the river that would have carried them to safety only to be trapped in a magic net that Maelgwin had set at the river’s edge.
Protected by Rhiddengwyn’s spells, the basket with its precious cargo floated gently down the stream, coming around a bend in the river where a sheepherder, fishing from the shore, cast his line, caught the edge of the basket with his hook and pulled it up onto the bank.
Her strength sapped by the enchanted coils of the Seddwelyn’s net, Rhiddengwyn managed to reach through the mesh and pluck reeds and lilies that she wove into a basket large enough to hold her newborn infant and thrust the basket through a gap in the net and into the river just as Maelgwin came out of the trees behind her, armed with her beloved Seddwelyn’s sword and shield.
Protected by Rhiddengwyn’s spells, the basket with its precious cargo floated gently down the stream, coming around a bend in the river where a sheepherder, fishing from the shore, cast his line, caught the edge of the basket with his hook and pulled it up onto the bank.
The sheepherder had six sons but longed for a daughter so he carried the sleeping infant home to his wife. Delighted with the beauty of the baby girl, they called her “River’s Gift” and agreed to raise her as their own.
One day the sheepherder’s wife accidentally dropped a spinning spool into the baby’s cradle, and when she leaned over to get it, she was amazed to see that River’s Gift had picked it up in her tiny hands and was spinning a strand of thread that shone like silver. As time passed and River’s Gift grew into a beautiful young girl, the strands of wool she spun transformed in threads that shimmered in all the colors in the rainbow, and she soon began to weave wonderful cloth in patterns that changed with the mood and thoughts of the wearer.
One day the sheepherder’s wife accidentally dropped a spinning spool into the baby’s cradle, and when she leaned over to get it, she was amazed to see that River’s Gift had picked it up in her tiny hands and was spinning a strand of thread that shone like silver.
Rhiddengwyn, however, had used the last of her waning powers to save her daughter and was helpless to defend herself from Maelgwin who took her by force and dragged her off to his mountain kingdom. Kept locked in a windowless tower, she remained a captive there until she convinced Maelgwin that she loved him and enticed him to take off his armor and lay down his weapons. Coaxing him close, whispering seductively in his ear, she caressed his cheek with one hand while with the other she reached down, grasped hold of Seddwelyn’s sword and, in a stroke, avenged both her honor and her murdered lover.
Once free, Rhiddengwyn searched in vain for her daughter, calling her name over and over until she finally despaired of ever seeing her beloved child again and retreated in sorrow to the top of the highest mountain in all the world where she remained weeping and sighing, unaware that Halfwen was growing up in a valley far below—believing herself to be the child of the sheepherder and his wife and answering to the name of River’s Gift.
Over time River’s Gift’s fame spread throughout the land so that she had many suitors, but she refused one after another saying that she would only marry the man who would wear the shirt that she had woven and told her truthfully that he loved her for herself alone—not for the riches that came from her weaving.
As she ripened into womanhood, River’s Gift became ever more beautiful and the cloth she wove became ever more wondrous. The sheepherder’s wife cut the cloth and made it into garments that were not only lovely to behold but had magical powers bringing good fortune to the wearer. When the sheepherder took the clothes to sell in the market everyone crowded around him, anxious to buy them and giving him any price he asked.
Over time River’s Gift’s fame spread throughout the land so that she had many suitors, but she refused one after another saying that she would only marry the man who would wear the shirt that she had woven and told her truthfully that he loved her for herself alone—not for the riches that came from her weaving. Many men put on that enchanted shirt and swore their love for her but no matter how sincere their words, the shirt always give their inner thoughts away, its luminous colors swirling into pictures of their hands grasping for the gold that her weaving would bring them.
Of all her many suitors, only the son of the king, who was exceedingly wealthy himself, could say that he loved her without thought of her weaving. He, however, was betrayed by the shirt that showed his true longing was for her beauty and not for her wit or her strength of character. Seeing he was, in his own way, as shallow as her other suitors, River’s Gift sent the king’s son away as she had all those others, except that—moved by his tears and pleading—she let him keep the shirt that she had woven.
River’s Gift sent the king’s son away as she had all those others, except that—moved by his tears and pleading—she let him keep the shirt that she had woven.
Heart-broken, the king’s son went off wearing the shirt that now showed only the picture of River’s Gift’s face for that was the king’s son’s only thought. Lost in his longing for River’s Gift, the king’s son wandered without looking or caring where he was going—and surely would have perished from hunger or drown in the sea or been devoured by wild beasts except that the shirt had had magical powers that made its wearer invincible.
Always full without the need to eat, able to walk on water without sinking and shielded against all attackers, the king’s son wandered on, down into valleys, across rivers, and up into the mountains, never stopping and never tiring because the shirt’s magic powers gave him the strength to climb the highest mountain with no more effort than walking along a gentle path through a garden.
It was at the top of the highest mountain that the king’s son met Rhiddengwyn, who had taken on the appearance of a shriveled old woman from her years of lamenting.
All the while that king’s son had been wandering through the wilderness he had been thinking himself the saddest of all beings, never imagining that anyone could suffer more than he did until he saw the grief of a mother mourning for her lost child. Then, for the first time, he felt sorry for someone else.
Since he could not marry the beautiful woman he loved, he made up his mind to reject both joy and beauty all together and marry the weeping crone. That was what he said to Rhiddengwyn, thinking that marrying a king’s son and having all the wealth in the kingdom would at least make the old woman stop crying.
The audacity of a mortal feeling sorry for her did make Rhiddengwyn stop crying and look up, outraged and intending to cast a spell to make the king’s son throw himself off the side of the mountain.
But as she was about to begin her incantation she saw the picture of River Gift’s face on front of the enchanted shirt—recognizing it at once as her own beloved daughter—and instead of commanding the king’s son to throw himself over the side of the cliff she greeted him like a son and listened with tears of joy as he told her how he came to have the enchanted shirt and together they went to the sheepherder’s cottage, told River’s Gift the truth of who her mother was and why she had such wondrous gifts.
And that was how the river goddess’s daughter was reunited with her mother and how the king’s son learned to see beneath surface appearances.
“And that was how the river goddess’s daughter was reunited with her mother and how the king’s son learned to see beneath surface appearances.”
Drawing his narrative to a close, Herrwn concluded, “Given the choice of marrying the king’s son, who now loved her for herself, or going to the other world to be with her mother, River’s Gift chose to go with her mother, but as she left she kissed the king’s son on the lips and in doing so bestowed upon him the skill of singing songs in a voice of unmatched beauty. And while River’s Gift was never to be seen again by mortals, she proved the meaning of her name—the tears that Rhiddengwyn had shed in the years that she had been mourning for her lost child became the crystal waterfalls that fall down the sides of mountains, the sighs that she had sighed became the gentle breezes that rustle the uppermost leaves in the summer, and eventually when the king’s son grew old and died, he was reborn as a nightingale and still sings his songs of love for the River Goddess’s Daughter each spring.”
Author’s Note: While the books in The Druid Chronicles are available at all major book sellers, I encourage readers to patronize their local book store or, if unavailable there, to consider purchase through Bookshop.org.
This is a very imaginative tale, giving the young woman dignity and value beyond the usual beauty.