There were very few people living in the tiny hamlet of Llanfrothen, tucked between the beautiful hills near Beddgelert in Snowdonia. They were all aware of the witch living in their midst in that year of 1780, and made sure they got out of her way, when she walked about, and none would ever meet her eyes if they did accidentally happen to be too close to her. This witch, who must at this time have been nearly ninety, was called Mallt. She had not lived long in the area and had supposedly come from Rhoslan, near Cricieth. None of the inhabitants of Rhoslan ever remembered hearing of Mallt, so her origin was a bit of a mystery. Her intentions were not, as she made no secret of the fact she expected to be kept in the necessities of life by the people of Llanfrothen. With very few exceptions, Mallt only had to ask for food or clothing for it to be handed over immediately, as no one was anxious for themselves or their families or domestic animals to be bewitched by Mallt's vengeance on receiving a refusal. One of the local farmers named John Griffiths had no time for her or her begging, neither was he afraid of her casting any spells in her direction. Until one day while he was away at a neighbouring farm when the witch stuck her head around the door of his dairy demanding milk, while throwing a large stone vessel on to the floor. "Be quick about it," she commanded the servants. Having been told by their employer that Mallt could not harm him or them, they chased her away. With her old black rags flapping after her and her shawl lifting off her head showing her straggly grey locks she stomped down the farm path vowing vengeance. "It will come sooner than you think!" she snarled. Behind her stood the servants, just a little scared as they watched her disappear towards the high road. Next morning the milk would not churn into butter and to make things even worse, a terrible smell rose from the three churns in the dairy. It was impossible to stay inside the dairy for more tan a few minutes as the stench was so overpowering. One of the dairymaids ran into the kitchen to tell the farmer and his wife that the butter would not churn. Half jokingly he asked, "Has Mallt been around here while I was away?" When they told him that she had, and that they had refused her milk, he started shouting at them. One of the older servants said "Well Mishtar bach, we were afraid you would be angry if we gave her milk." "Better my anger than a witch's curse." He answered. None of the servants dared tell him that he had often said no witch's curse would harm him. John Griffiths decided to go and seek the advice of a wise man in the town of Pwllheli, about twenty or so miles away. Saddling his horse, he led it up to the dairy, where one or two of the servants were trying to brave the stench and churn some milk. "Get out all of you!" he ordered, "And see whether anyone tries to get in or out of the dairy while I am gone." Away he galloped on his sturdy cob, and by that afternoon he had reached the house of the wise man. "Well Dyn Hysbys (wise man), how do I remove that old Mallt's spell" he enquired. The wise man said "I have heard John Griffiths that you do not believe in witchcraft." "Well it looks as if I do now" was the brief reply. The wise man's instruction were: "When you get home, have three pokers heated red hot and let three servants carry one each in to the dairy. Every man has to put his poker separately into each of the three churns at the same time." The farmer, who was no fool, saw the wisdom of the advice. Putting the poker only into one churn would only break the spell on that churn. That terrible stench would still emanate from the other two. With cloths tied over the lower parts of their faces, to cover nose and mouth, the three menservants rushed into the dairy, each brandishing a red hot poker and simultaneously thrust them into the three churns. The airy doors had been left open and as soon as the pokers were put into the churns, from each churn leaped a massive hare, which bolted through the doors, causing the spectators standing outside the dairy to scatter. The dreadful stench could no longer be smelled and within five minutes the dairymaids had begun to churn the most beautiful sweet butter. For a few months there was no more trouble with the milk, but one morning the foul smell returned and the milk could not be churned. It was obvious that Mallt had a long memory. The furious John Griffiths set off at high speed for Pwllheli, to complain to the wise man. "I will give you a charm to put in the churns and that should stop the nuisance." Said the wise man. The charm failed to do anything and in despair, John Griffiths decided to go and visit the witch Bella, the famous Denbigh witch who lived almost sixty miles away across country. The farmer set off at speed on his cob and the following day reached the cottage of Bella the witch. Halfway up the path a voice said, "Come in John Griffiths, and sit down, I have been expecting you." He was amazed that she even knew his name, and more amazes when she told him "You come from Llanfrothen, and you have a field called Gors Coch field." For a moment the farmer was silent, and then began to tell Bella about the spell, but she interrupted him: "I know also what you want, and I will break that silly, nasty witch Mallt's spell, I'd be glad to. I hate her, and everyone knows that mine is the greater power. This is what you must do." "The evening you get home, drive your milking cows into the Gors Coch field. Take a friend along with you and both of you hide behind the big holly bush in the field. By my magic I will make Mallt appear to you in person, and never again will she be able to harm you or your family or your domestic animals." Thanking her and placing a gold coin on the table in front of her, he went out quickly and without stopping even for a meal raced for home. As Bella had told him, he went to get his friend Tom, and together they drove the cows to the field, and then hid behind the holly bush. It was a fine clear June night, but they both thought they heard the sound of the wind moaning through the trees, but this didn't seem possible on a night like this. Tom said: "It sounds as if someone is moaning in great pain, but I am imagining things." "Well I must be imagining it too," said John Griffiths. The moaning became louder and louder and suddenly a body came hurtling through the air, landing close beside them in the field. It was the witch Mallt, who was writhing in agony on the ground, and both men could clearly hear her mumbling the words "Yes Bella. At once Bella," then "I am sorry John Griffiths for the trouble I have caused you." Before their astonished eyes she spiralled up into the air, and still moaning disappeared, yet her moaning could still be heard up to five minutes later. The two friends drove the cattle home into the shed and milked them. The next morning the butter churned beautifully and for as long as John Griffiths and his family lived, there were no more problems churning the butter. The happy John Griffiths knowing Mallt would never trouble him again, circulated his story of Bella's wonderful magic all around the area. The result was that his account diminished Mallt's power in the eyes of the local people, but even so, they never went out of their way to offend Mallt the witch.
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