Half way up the Llanberis pass in Snowdonia, about 2 miles beyond Nant Peris, on the way to Capel Curig, is a small stone bridge called Pont-y-Cromlech. A stone age burial chamber. An altar stone of the Druids is called a Cromlech in welsh, and there are many fine examples of these in Wales. Just to the right of the bridge is the Cromlech that gives the bridge its name. A horizontal rock supported by a pillar of stone on each side. In the earth below it lived the cannibal witch of a legend dating back to 400 AD. She was known as Canrig Bwt, and had sold her soul to the Devil in exchange for the powers of Black magic. Her name sent a shiver down the spines of the peoples of those superstitious times. Canrig lived they said by eating little children. It was decided that the foul witch must die. No one it seemed wanted to volunteer to perform the execution until a young farm labourer called Idwal said that he would rid the world of this witch. There was he explained only one problem, he was a poor young man and a wizard had told him that Canrig could only be killed by a iron broadsword. “Where would I get such a weapon?” he asked. “Would any warrior lend him their sword?”. Yes there was such a man willing to lend Idwal a sword, he was the lord of the manor. Not only would he lend Idwal the sword, but he would train him how to unsheathe and use it. A wise old woman who lived at the foot of Snowdon told Idwal to wind sprigs of Vervain and yew round the handle of the sword. Idwal thought it a pity to hide the jewels on the sword, but thought the old woman should know best. He carefully covered the hilt with the greenery. One evening after harvest, the sort of night those visitors like to climb up Snowdon and watch the rise of the harvest moon, a crowd gathered to watch Idwal set off on his gruesome adventure. Among the people assembled was a monk. He told Idwal to kneel and hand the sword to him, hilt first. He blessed the sword and anointed the young man’s forehead with holy oil, and absolved him of the sin of killing. He quoted a verse from the Bible containing the words “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” The night was dark and the moon a long way off rising as Idwal strode briskly up the Llanberis pass. Dark mountain peaks loomed on either side of him, darker than the night. An eagle mewed loudly disturbed by the howl of a wolf. A screeching owl pass by him it’s wings brushing his face as it made it’s eerie sound. In the silence Idwal welcomed the noises. He had almost reached Pont-y-cromlech, when the huge yellow moon rose suddenly from behind Snowdon. It was now as bright as day, and as he crossed Pont-y-cromlech, he turned right and came upon Canrig’s cromlech. Under the massive capstone he heard scrabbling noises and he shuddered. Canrig was below! He stopped drew out the great sword from it’s sheath silently, as he had been taught, then paused to say a prayer. He was ready but his voice would not utter the words. He was frozen with horror at what he saw at the entrance to the witch’s underground home. Small piles of little bones, and a tiny skull with a few golden curls still attached. In moments his horror turned to rage, in a loud voice which echoed amongst the crags and valleys he yelled “Canrig Bwt, foul witch, devourer of little children; in the name of the holy trinity come and face me!” In reply he heard a blood-curdling chuckle “Foolish young man, I will come out and deal with you. First I must my meal by sucking this sweet little child’s brain dry.” Suddenly the witch shot out of the ground. The moonlight added to Idwal’s horror. It lit up the long green face and the blood stained corners of her mouth. Blood had even trickled down her chin and the ends of her straggly white hair. Crooking her long fingernails she lunged at Idwal. Crossing himself he said “God help me to overcome evil.” Afterwards he told the story; “The blessed sword, the holy sprigs and the iron in the sword stopped the witch in her tracks, about a foot away from him. She stood still, unable to move he lifted the sword and severed the neck from the body. Her eyes still glowing in her head as it rolled down the mountainside.” Later he recalled there was a red glow around the moon and the stench of sulphur all around him. He made his way home quickly, still carrying the sword wet with the witch’s blood. In his anguish he had forgotten to wipe and sheath the sword. When he got home he received a hero’s welcome, and the lord of the manor told him to keep the priceless sword. Now the parents knew that their children were safe from Canrig Bwt forever. The cannibal witch of Snowdonia was no more. There remained only the danger of the Fairies stealing their un-baptised babies, but at least they treated them kindly. And nearly always left their own ugly children in their place.
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