Swyn y Gwynt

Y Medd Melys;
‘First horn is for thirst, the second for pleasure. Three horns for song and the fourth is for leisure. Five horns for folly, the sixth is for slumber but the seventh horn reveals the dark Druid’s number.’

Bellnor had made a fine effort at the wonderful food and drink on offer, looking pleased and effusive at the centre of the top table and he had been gregarious throughout. Among the gifts on the huge table before him, sat a small two-gallon oak cask and Bellnor had been eyeing it all afternoon knowing well what it contained, as the mysterious markings burned into its timbers were familiar to him. Although it was many years since he had sampled a proper vintage Swyn y Gwynt, he recognised this small wooden barrel for what it was; two gallons of pure magical nectar and in the High-King of Breged’s considered personal opinion, it was rarer than dragon’s piss. ‘Sound of the Wind’ was the famous and much lauded honey-liquor of Myrddun yr Ogof, the long-dead alchemist and master-distiller who had stored his liquor in oak barrels, deep in a draughty cave system in the nearby lands of the much reduced Tectoferdi tribe. His wirod-mywyd, or ‘spirit-of-life’ as the Prydeinig called their beloved liquor had become legendary, earning the wily old distiller a small fortune, but his very finest vintage was known as ‘Swyn y Gwynt’ and this precious spirit was so wonderfully delicious and pure, it was thought to have been touched by the Gods themselves.

The Tectoferdi were known throughout Prydein as master bee-keepers and their honey was hugely popular with the werrin of all Breganta. Myrddun Ogof had sought out these Bee-Masters, as the liquid gold their minions produced was flavoured by the heather and wild flowers which festoon the broad downs nearby, and which occupy the heartland of this north-midland territory. As the chatter and noise of this banquet washed over Bellnor, his gaze fell on the barrel once more and his thoughts returned to old Myrddun Ogof and his long-lost underground distillery…. With the liquid gold of Tectoferdi’s bees secured, Myrddun began by building a fine reputation across the region for producing the purest medd-melys and Myrddun gathered the profit from selling this excellent mead, investing it into a future, in the further distillation of his most popular produce. Soon his honey liquor became famous, especially his finest work; Swyn y Gwynt for which the aristocracy would pay an exorbitant price, such was its reputation. Myrddun had died without issue or a subordinate to run the distillery and so his caves had become abandoned. They had been raided by anonymous rogues and most of his stock stolen, soon after his death from some mysterious illness in his inner organs, but the cave system was such a dangerous warren, rumours were rife about undiscovered reserves of honey liquor, hidden away still in some dark corner. Even a great pile of lost Swyn y Gwynt was conjured up by the more optimistic. Warriors and bards alike would retell the old tale with relish across Prydein, on those long cold nights when the warm mead was all gone. This had all happened more than a hundred years ago, making a real barrel of Swyn y Gwynt a very rare thing indeed. It was thought they were all long-gone but this one had somehow survived and by some miracle, his daughter-in-law had managed to procure it for him. There were many counterfeits these days depressingly, a sad development in recent years across many industries and it was common knowledge in this modern world; not all that which glitters is gold. Bellnor could tell by these rare markings however that this was the real thing, as it was in the original barrel, hand-made by the master himself and it promised untold delights from its incredible age, and Bellnor just couldn’t wait to tap it. His pleasure deepened with anticipation and he salivated a little in expectancy and looking around, he even nodded and smiled across to his son, who returned it to his credit and it seemed as if this exciting and God’s blessed day was having a soothing and conciliatory effect on all.
The King glanced across at Morwena then, appreciating now the efforts his daughter-in-law had made and she was proving to be a very accomplished hostess, flitting here and there and organising everything, always industrious. He was forced to revise his opinion of her, as without her tireless efforts to make this celebration a complete success, and her determined reaching out to him, he probably wouldn’t have come, even as he knew it would have driven a wedge between him and his son no amount of diplomacy could have drawn. Now it seems her persistence has paid off, as this had been a truly wonderful celebration and his beautiful granddaughter had stolen everyone’s hearts, in the short periods of calm between the raging bouts of bedlam which issued from her. This whole maes was relaxing now into this warm and memorable day and Bellnor’s great shoulders sagged, the knots of tension finally unravelling, and he beamed back at the rows of flushed but smiling faces before him. Gŵyr Eidyn and his burly, grey-haired comrade Gŵyr Cydwas smiled thinly in return to the High-King from their long side table but then eyed each other nervously and both remained silent, Cydwas’ head dropping and Eidyn too lowered his gaze, as it couldn’t be much longer.
The Adlonnwr was no mere Jester even as he dressed and performed as a well-known one, as this man was among the very best sleight of hand merchants in all Prydein. Morwena had spent much silver in getting this famous magician here today and for this happy event. Bellnor roared with laughter, as the man with the elusive hands produced a fully inflated pig’s bladder, seemingly out of thin air. Morwena watched her Chwegrun carefully and was thrilled that Bellnor was enjoying himself so much. He had been so kind to her earlier, praising her for the excellence of the feast and thanking her sincerely for her efforts in creating such a spectacular success in the Founding of his granddaughter, even shaking hands and embracing Cartysman before throwing his arms about them both. Although Prince Cartysman had stood a little rigid at first, the cheering of all the guests seemed to soften his attitude and blushing furiously, he too relented and the smiles broke out everywhere.
A bunch of flowers appeared as if by magic under the King’s nose and he roared with laughter again, his elbow resting in confirmed ownership of the barrel of honey liquor. Morwena was compelled to go to him in his joy and sliding her arms around his great muscular shoulders she hugged him, smiling as he patted the back of her hand. “He’s very good Morwena, wherever did you find him?” He asked her, his eyes sparkling from under his bushy eyebrows and echoing his laughter. “I’ll send him to you after the feast father, and he can tickle your ribs in private for a week or two!” She offered with a mischievous smile and Bellnor nodded in agreement, flipping the performer a whole gold coin. The man’s eyes grew huge, but the coin vanished in thin air and once again the applause was loud. The Jester bowed deeply to Bellnor but when he arose a moment later, he was wearing a completely different shirt, and the High-King of Breged was astounded, standing and leading the cheering. As if in sudden afterthought, Bellnor turned and bent to Morwena.

“And where on this green-earth did you find this barrel of Swyn y Gwynt?” He queried with an astonished expression, but his canny daughter in law wasn’t forthcoming and tapped the side of her nose with a finger, an enigmatic smile playing around her lips. At a nod from her a steward approached with a mallet and pin, and she leaned closer to her father in law. “To be quite honest father, I know not where it comes from, but a merchant offered it for sale and I bought it for you. I have noticed you haven’t been able to take your eyes from our little gift, so I have brought a brewer to tap it, and so that you can sample it now. I know you’re dying to taste it!” She told him in his ear and with that enduring, enigmatic smile of hers. Bellnor didn’t need much persuasion and was clearly delighted at her continued thoughtfulness, nodding to the steward and finally relinquishing his precious new gift. With one practised blow, the steward drove a spigot into the barrel and the man stood it back upright on the table carefully in front of the King, before bowing deeply and retreating. Bellnor’s mouth salivated sharply in anticipation and as the liquor was poured carefully into a beautiful imported drinking glass with a long, twisted stem by a nervous arwein, he could hardly contain himself. The liquor was so pale it was almost translucent, but when he held it up to the sunlight, subtle tones of honey and autumn gold were revealed in its mysterious depths. To Bellnor’s sophisticated nose, the bouquet of heather and wild blooms came alive on his olfactory palette. He breathed its fumes in deeply, glorying in its complex but sweet aromas which promised so much. The King stretched out this moment of pure personal pleasure, taking the time to appreciate where this nectar had come from, as the sounds around him faded, being replaced by the arrival of a curious and melodic wind, whose subtle, somewhat melancholic tones drifted toward an enraptured Bellnor from somewhere in the trees hereabouts.

With narrowed but glittering eyes the King lifted the lovely glass higher, considering its contents of such venerable age and the unique individual who had brought it into this world, and he revelled in the keen sense of anticipation which gripped him. The first sip did not disappoint, in fact it delighted him and stimulated his taste-buds, making his eyes roll upwards as the aged liquor washed over his tongue and all his celebrating senses. It was even more delicious than anticipated and Bellnor smacked his lips, nodding and smiling his appreciation to Morwena but as he did this, he detected a slight oiliness on his lips and it had no business being there. As Bellnor licked the unexpected film from his lips with a frown, Morwena’s face was inscrutable and her eyes unfathomable at that breath-catching moment. The sounds from the wind and the hundreds of guests became strangely hollow to his ears then and his heart began to beat a little differently in his chest, which suddenly felt tight and it gave him an alarming twinge. https://iffy88227.wixsite.com/sonsofbelimawr