Inspiration for Islands in the Mist

The Islands in the Mist series is largely inspired by the ancient history, myths and folklore of Wales. For centuries, Welsh (Cymric) history, poems and stories were preserved only through oral traditions. To ensure the stories of their people would live on, certain individuals within their ancient clans chose to undergo rigorous study. They spent years telling the songs, stories and poems of their ancestors, committing them to memory and handing them down as a precious inheritance to the next generation. Such bardic traditions go back to at least the 6^th century, but likely go back much further than that.

It was not until the 13^th century that the history and poems of Wales were recorded. The earliest sources are manuscripts written by clerics and monks in Middle Welsh in the 13th, 14th, and 15th centuries. These manuscripts are collectively known as the ancient books of Wales: The Black Book of Carmarthen, The Book of Aneirin, The Book of Taliesin, The Red Book of Hergest. The Red Book has a sister, The White Book of Rhydderch. Many scholars believe the Red and the White are daughters copied from the same mother manuscript, as they contain much of the same material, so they are often studied together.

Later in history, material from the manuscripts was further developed and translated. Most notable among these later works are Hanes Taliesin, compiled by Elis Gryffydd in the mid-16^th century, and The Mabinogion, an impressive collection of works sourced mainly from the Red and White books, compiled and translated into English by Lady Charlotte Guest in the mid 1800’s.

The myth that inspired me to start the series concerns a sorceress and a young boy, who,

through her, becomes the most famous bard in Wales—the renowned Taliesin. Theirs is a tale of inspiration, initiation and transformation, with echoes that have rippled through the lakes, mountains and forests of Wales for over a thousand years.

Following is Lady Charlotte Guest’s translation and interpretation of the ancient myth of Cerridwen and Gwion Bach, excerpted from her master work, The Mabinogion. Reading it may grant you a richer experience on your journey through the Islands in the Mist series.

In times past there lived in Penllyn a man of gentle lineage, named Tegid Voel, and his dwelling was in the midst of the lake Tegid, and his wife was called Caridwen. And there was born to him of his wife a son named Morvran ab Tegid, and also a daughter named Creirwy, the fairest maiden in the world was she; and they had a brother, the most ill-favoured man in the world, Avagddu. Now Caridwen his mother thought that he was not likely to be admitted among men of noble birth, by reason of his ugliness, unless he had some exalted merits or knowledge. For it was in the beginning of Arthur's time and of the Round Table.

So she resolved, according to the arts of the books of the Fferyllt, to boil a cauldron of Inspiration and Science for her son, that his reception might be honourable because of his knowledge of the mysteries of the future state of the world.

Then she began to boil the cauldron, which from the beginning of its boiling might not cease to boil for a year and a day, until three blessed drops were obtained of the grace of Inspiration.

And she put Gwion Bach the son of Gwreang of Llanfair in Caereinion, in Powys, to stir the cauldron, and a blind man named Morda to kindle the fire beneath it, and she charged them that they should not suffer it to cease boiling for the space of a year and a day. And she herself, according to the books of the astronomers, and in planetary hours, gathered every day of all charm-bearing herbs. And one day, towards the end of the year, as Caridwen was culling plants and making incantations, it chanced that three drops of the charmed liquor flew out of the cauldron and fell upon the finger of Gwion Bach. And by reason of their great heat he put his finger to his mouth, and the instant he put those marvel-working drops into his mouth, he foresaw everything that was to come, and perceived that his chief care must be to guard against the wiles of Caridwen, for vast was her skill. And in very great fear he fled towards his own land. And the cauldron burst in two, because all the liquor within it except the three charm-bearing drops was poisonous, so that the horses of Gwyddno Garanhir were poisoned by the water of the stream into which the liquor of the cauldron ran, and the confluence of that stream was called the Poison of the Horses of Gwyddno from that time forth.

Thereupon came in Caridwen and saw all the toil of the whole year lost. And she seized a billet of wood and struck the blind Morda on the head until one of his eyes fell out upon his cheek. And he said, "Wrongfully hast thou disfigured me, for I am innocent. Thy loss was not because of me." "Thou speakest truth," said Caridwen, "it was Gwion Bach who robbed me."

And she went forth after him, running. And he saw her, and changed himself into a hare and fled. But she changed herself into a greyhound and turned him. And he ran towards a river, and became a fish. And she in the form of an otter-bitch chased him under the water, until he was fain to turn himself into a bird of the air. She, as a hawk, followed him and gave him no rest in the sky. And just as she was about to stoop upon him, and he was in fear of death, he espied a heap of winnowed wheat on the floor of a barn, and he dropped among the wheat, and turned himself into one of the grains. Then she transformed herself into a high-crested black hen, and went to the wheat and scratched it with her feet, and found him out and swallowed him. And, as the story says, she bore him nine months, and when she was delivered of him, she could not find it in her heart to kill him, by reason of his beauty. So she wrapped him in a leathern bag, and cast him into the sea to the mercy of God, on the twenty-ninth day of April.

And at that time the weir of Gwyddno was on the strand between Dyvi and Aberystwyth, near to his own castle, and the value of an hundred pounds was taken in that weir every May eve. And in those days Gwyddno had an only son named Elphin, the most hapless of youths, and the most needy. And it grieved his father sore, for he thought that he was born in an evil hour. And by the advice of his council, his father had granted him the drawing of the weir that year, to see if good luck would ever befall him, and to give him something wherewith to begin the world.

And the next day when Elphin went to look, there was nothing in the weir. But as he turned back he perceived the leathern bag upon a pole of the weir. Then said one of the weir-ward unto Elphin, "Thou wast never unlucky until to-night, and now thou hast destroyed the virtues of the weir, which always yielded the value of an hundred pounds every May eve, and to-night there is nothing but this leathern skin within it." "How now," said Elphin, "there may be therein the value of an hundred pounds." Well, they took up the leathern bag, and he who opened it saw the forehead of the boy, and said to Elphin, "Behold a radiant brow!" 

"Taliesin shall he be called," said Elphin. And he lifted the boy in his arms, and lamenting his mischance, he placed him sorrowfully behind him. And he made his horse amble gently, that before had been trotting, and he carried him as softly as if he had been sitting in the easiest chair in the world.

The inspiration for the entire series has unfurled from this seminal story, pulling into its sphere many other Celtic legends and plenty of folklore as I've woven my way toward the inevitable gravitas of the Arthurian legends. All roads lead to him and the lore surrounding his reign.