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"May God bless you abundantly, friend," said the satin-robed bishop. "If I may be so bold, what kind of work are you doing up there on your mound?"

"Well," replied Manawyddan, growing slightly irritated at having to explain his every move, "since you ask, and if it concerns you at all-which it does not-know that I am hanging a dirty thief which I caught stealing the last of my grain, the very grain which I was counting on to keep myself and my dear daughter-in-law alive through the coming winter."

"I am sorry to hear it," answered the bishop. "But, my lord, is that not a mouse I see in your hand?"

"Oh, aye," confirmed Manawyddan, "and a rank thief it is."

"Now see here," said the bishop, "it may be God's own luck that I have come upon the destruction of that creature. I will redeem it from its well-deserved fate. Please accept the thirty pounds I will give you for its life. For, by the beard of Saint Joseph, rather than see a lordly man as yourself destroying wretched vermin, I will give that much and more gladly. Release it and retain your dignity."

"Nay, Lord Bishop, I will not."

"Since you will not let it go for that, I will give you sixty pounds of fine silver. Man, I beg you to let it go."

"I will not release it, by my confession to God, for the same amount again and more besides. Money is no use to me in the grave to which I am going since the destruction of my fields."

"If you free the mouse," said the satin-robed one, "I will give you all the horses on the plain, and the seven sumpters that are here, and the seven horses that carry them."

"I do not want for horses. Between you and me and God," Manawyddan replied, "I could not feed them if I had them."

"Since you do not want that, name your price."

"You press me hard for a churchman," said the lord of Dyfed. "But since you ask, I want, more than anything under heaven, the return of my own dear wife, Rhiannon, and my good friend and companion, Pryderi."

"As I live and breathe, and with God alone as my witness, they will appear the moment you release that mouse."

"Did I say I was finished?" asked Manawyddan.

"Speak up, man. What else do you want?"

"I want swift and certain deliverance from the magic and enchantment that rests so heavily upon the seven cantrefs of Dyfed."

"That you will have also," promised the bishop, "if you release the mouse at once and do it no harm."

"You must think me slow of thought and speech," countered Manawyddan, his suspicions fully roused. "I am far from finished."

"What else do you require?"

"I want to know what this mouse is to you, that you should take such an interest in its fate."

"I will tell you," said the bishop, "though you will not believe me."

"Try me."

"Will you believe me if I tell you that the mouse you hold is really my own dear wife? And were that not so, we would not be freeing her."

"Right you are, friend," agreed Manawyddan. "I do not believe you."

"It is true nonetheless."

"Then tell me, by what means did she come to me in this form?"

"To plunder this realm of its possessions," the bishop answered, "for I am none other than Llwyd Cil Coed, and I confess that it was I who put the enchantment on the seven cantrefs of Dyfed. This was done to avenge my brother Gwawl, who was killed by you and Pryderi in the Battle of the Cauldron. After hearing that you had returned to settle in the land," the false bishop continued, "I turned my lord's war-band into mice so they might destroy your barley without your knowledge. On the first night of destruction the warband came alone and carried away the grain. On the second night they came too, and destroyed the second field. On the third night my wife and the women of the court came to me and asked me to transform them as well. I did as they asked, though my dear wife was pregnant. Had she not been pregnant, I doubt you would have caught her."

"She was the only one I caught, to be sure," replied Manawyddan thoughtfully.

"But, alas, since she was caught, I will give you Pryderi and Rhiannon, and remove the magic and enchantment from Dyfed." Llwyd the Hud folded his arms across his chest and, gazing up to the top of the mound at Manawyddan, he said, "There! I have told you everything-now let her go."

"I will not let her go so easily."

"Now what do you want?" demanded the enchanter.

"Behold," the mighty champion replied, "there is yet one more thing required: that there may never be any more magic or enchantment placed upon the seven cantrefs of Dyfed, nor on my kinfolk or any other people beneath my care."

"Upon my oath, you will have that," the Llwyd said, "now, for the love of God, let her go."

"Not so fast, enchanter," warned Manawyddan, still gripping the mouse tightly in his fist.

"What now?" Llwyd moaned.

"This," he said, "is what I want: there must be no revenge against Pryderi, Rhiannon, Cigfa, or myself, ever, from this day henceforth, forever."

"All that I promise and have promised, you shall get. And, God knows, that last was a canny thought," the enchanter allowed, "for if you had not spoken thus, all of the grief you have had till now would be as nothing compared to that which would have soon fallen upon your unthinking head. So if we are agreed, I pray you, wise lord, release my wife and return her to me."

"I will," promised Manawyddan, "in the same moment that I see Pryderi and Rhiannon standing hale and hearty in front of me."

"Look then, and see them coming!" said Llwyd the Hud.

Thereupon, Pryderi and Rhiannon, together with the missing hounds, appeared at the foot of the gorsedd mound. Manawyddan, beside himself with joy, hailed them and welcomed them.

"Lord and king, now free my wife, for you have certainly obtained all of what you asked for."

"I will free her gladly," Manawyddan said, lowering his hand and opening the glove so the mouse could jump free. Llwyd the Enchanter took out his staff and touched the mouse, and she changed into a charming and lovely woman once more-albeit a woman great with child.

"Look around you at the land," cried Llwyd the Hud to the lord of Dyfed, "and you will see all the homesteads and the settlements as they were at their best."

Instantly, the whole of the country was inhabited and as prosperous as it had ever been. Manawyddan and Rhiannon and Pryderi and Cigfa were reunited, and, to celebrate the end of the dire enchantment, they made a circuit of all the land, dispensing the great wealth Rhi Manawyddan had obtained in his bargain with the enchanter. Everywhere they went, they ate and drank and feasted the people, and no one was as well loved as the lord of Dyfed and his lovely queen. Pryderi and Cigfa were blessed with a son the next year, and he became, if possible, even more beloved than his grandfather. Here, Angharad stopped; she let the last notes of the harp fade into the night, then added, "But that is a tale for another time." Setting aside the harp, she stood and spread her hands over the heads of her listeners. "Go now," she said softly, as a mother speaking to a sleep-heavy child. "Say nothing, but go to your sleep and to your dreams. Let the song work its power within you, my children."

Bran, no less than the others, felt as if his soul had been cast adrift-all around him washed a vast and restless sea that he must navigate in a too-small boat with neither sail nor oars. For him, at least, the feeling was more familiar. This was how he always felt after hearing one of Angharad's tales. Nevertheless, he obeyed her instruction and did not speak to anyone, but went to his rest, where the song would continue speaking through the night and through the days to come. And although part of him wanted nothing more than to ride at once to Llanelli, storm the gaol, and rescue the captive by force, he had learned his lesson and resisted any such rash action. Instead, Bran bided his time and let the story do its work.