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In a farmhouse near the foot of Arenig there lived a farmer called Sion, his wife Nelw, and their only child Wyn. They were a happy family. One thing alone worried them. Wyn was a healthy boy, but at times a strange disease overcame him, making him unconscious and to all appearances dead. “Wyn will grow out of this sickness,” the neighbours said. “Mark my words, he will grow into a man, brave and strong.” But Sion and Nelw were not to be comforted. They watched carefully over their son. When he was well they rejoiced together, but when the strange disease came they would sit and shake their heads sorrowfully. Wyn was now twelve years old. In the springtime he was so well that it seemed as if the disease had left him. Sion and Nelw watched him but their hearts were sorrowful. “The apple tree is bearing its blossoms far too early this year.” Nelw shook her head sorrowfully. “It is an evil omen.” Sion answered, “A far worse omen is the crowing of the cockerel at night. If it crows through this night until daybreak I will cut off its head.” The next morning Sion came in from the poultry yard. “Grieve no more, Nelw. No more will that cockerel foretell the death of our young son. I have killed it.” “Alack!” answered Nelw. “Of what use is it?” Throughout the night I kept dreaming. I dreamt that I was at a wedding. Dreams go by opposites. Soon I shall be at our sons funeral.” Scarcely had she finished speaking when they heard a strange scraping sound at the kitchen window. They turned and saw a bird flapping its wing against the panes. “It is the bird of death! ”cried Nelw, raising her hand in horror. Sion tried to comfort her, himself sad at heart. How very dearly they loved their son, and he was to be taken from them! A few days later Sion was walking home from Bala, laden with stores for the house. He was walking along a lonely stretch of road. From a cluster of trees near the roadside there came an old witch. Sion shook with fear. He saw her long cloak dragging in the mud of the roadway, and he was so afraid he dare not look her in the eye. When he did so it was to see the wrinkled features of an old hag. Her black eyes shone in their hollow sockets; her nose was long and beaked, and her black teeth jutted out from thick purple lips. A horrible sight, thought Sion, and hid deeper in the shadows where he stood. Sion thought she was going to come and speak to him, but she walked past him as though she had not seen him. She slid down into a little ditch at the side of the road, and there she bathed her feet. She screamed several times, raising the echoes in the great wood beyond. “My child! My child!” she screeched. “My dear, dear son.” These words were carried to Sion by the gentle Southwest wind. He repeated them to himself and shuddered. “The witch is claiming Wyn,” he said. “I must hasten home and warn Nelw.” He hurried on, but he had only gone a little way when he saw a candle travelling in front of him. “A corpse candle,” cried Sion, for it was a sight which men believed foretold a death. “It is a red candle,” said Sion in a whisper. “That is a sign that it is the body of a boy!” he walked on a few paces: “It is a small candle, which shows that it is a small boy.” Great was Sion’s astonishment when he got home to find that Wyn was alive. The boy was sleeping peacefully, unaware of the strange signs seeming to foretell his death. Sion told his tale to Nelw. She clutched his arm. “Tomorrow Sion, you shall harness the horse and ride to Trawsfynydd. You will ask the wizard there what we can do to keep our son.” She opened a small coffer and counted out some gold: “Tell him we will pay him well, if only he tells us what we can do to keep Wyn.” When Sion returned, Nelw ran to the kitchen to hear him repeat the wizard’s advice. This he did point by point. “We will do all that the wise man says,” she cried. “This very moment I will begin to prepare for you to take the boy to the well of Saint Tegla in the county of Denbigh.” Well stocked with provisions they set out for Llandegla. Sion rode the mare, Wyn the pony. “Blessings on your journey,” said Nelw from her heart as she waved them goodbye. When they reached Llandegla Sion arranged that Wyn should carry out the wizard’s instructions. At sunset Wyn went to the well of Saint Tegla, carrying a basket containing a cockerel. He drank of the water and then threw some drops over his left shoulder. “Now walk around the well three times,” commanded Sion, “ as you do so, repeat the Lord’s prayer.” When Wyn had done so Sion said, ”You will do the same again but this time, you will walk the pony around the church. “ “I grow tired, father,” said Wyn when he had done so. “You may rest now,” said Sion, and he led his son to the church. Sion placed the bible as a pillow beneath the alter. “Rest there till morning, my son,” he said, and he placed the alter cloth over the lad as a covering. In the morning, Sion came to fetch Wyn. “We will place a golden coin on the alter as an offering,” he said, and we will leave the fowl here as the wise man has ordered.” Sion and Wyn set out for home. The lad whistled merrily. Sion was troubled in mind concerning the fate of the cockerel he has left in the church. “If it does not die,” he muttered, “then Wyn will die. But if it does die then Wyn will be safe.” Nelw welcomed the travellers back to the farm. “I have been praying all day, she said, that the strange disease that attacks Wyn shall now leave him. May it attack the fowl in the church instead!”. The next three weeks were an anxious time for Sion and Nelw. News travelled slowly in those days, but at length, there came a messenger to say that the cockerel was dead. Sion and Nelw rejoiced. “This means,” they exclaimed, “that the strange disease that has defied the doctors and so often attacked our son is now gone from the earth.” They called Wyn, who rejoiced with them. Nelw set about preparing a feast and called on her neighbours to join in the celebration. Wyn grew well and strong. Despite the evil omens, he did not die that spring; and perhaps because his parents had carried out the words of the wise old man he grew up to be brave and strong and lived to a ripe old age.
