Gelert the faithful hound

The sign said Saracen’s Head Inn. How quaint. We parked the car opposite and walked back towards the small stone bridge that seemed to skip over a rushing stream; ‘it’s the river Colwyn’ they said sternly. There in the middle of the prettiest little Welsh village, you could ever imagine, stood the centuries old stone cottage of the great Prince Llewellyn of Gwynedd, Wales.

We turned left and padded on softly by the side of the gurgling stream in silence. There below the trees draped in yellow flowers, on the other side of the small iron gate, the grazing sheep stopped and stared suspiciously. The cold weather, the sight of so many ravens in the trees and the thought of the great hound Gelert’s memorial … I could be walking back into the mystical age of the druids. The sheep, now seemed everywhere, the church and mountains followed our every step…intruders into the peaceful silence. A large tree umbrella-ed the two stone slabs that told the story of the loyal Wolf-Hound… as we walked the last few steps towards what looked like a small grey cottage without a roof, the stone image of Gelert look out at me from within the four walls.

The legend says that sometime in the 13th century Welsh Prince Llewellyn pronounced “Thew-wel-lyn” went hunting. Gelert his Irish Wolf hound, a gift from the English King John, who always accompanied him mysteriously, could not be found. On his return however Gelert was there to greet him. Noticing that the dog was scarred & stained in blood he rushed to check on his baby son’s cot. It was empty! Enraged, he drew his sword and plunged it into Gelert’s side. With a loud moan Gelert fell dead. Just then the cries of a child grew louder… frantically he searched the cabin and there wrapped in a bundle of cloth unharmed lay his son, beside the body of a large wolf, filled with sorrow, Llewellyn never ever smiled again.

As we stood at the memorial…built in a small hamlet lodged between the mountains of Snowdonia…suddenly it seemed all the sheep had all melted into thin air, I looked left and to the right … no not even on the slopes of the hills… nowhere…it was distinctly eerie … I paused…looked into the face of Gelert once more… then turned and walked silently back, crossed the stone bridge and drove away into the hills.

Bendith Tad