In old days, it was believed that the seventh son, in a family of sons, was a conjurer by nature. That is, he could work wonders like the fairies…
If he were the seventh son of a seventh son, he was himself a wonder of wonders. The story ran that he could even cure the “shingles,” which is a very troublesome disease. It is called also by a Latin name, which means a snake, because, as it gets worse, it coils itself around the body.
Now the eagle can attack the serpent and conquer and kill this poisonous creature. To secure such power, Hugh, the conjurer, ate the flesh of eagles. When he wished to cure the serpent-disease, he uttered words in the form of a charm which acted as a talisman and cure. After wetting the red rash, which had broken out over the sick person’s body, he muttered:
“He-eagle, she-eagle, I send you over nine seas, and over nine mountains, and over nine acres of moor and fen, where no dog shall bark, no cow low, and no eagle shall higher rise.”
After that, the patient was sure that he felt better.
There was always great rivalry between these conjurers and those who made money from the Pilgrims at Holy Wells and visitors to the relic shrines, but this fellow, named Hugh, and the monks, kept on mutually good terms. They often ate dinner together, for Hugh was a great traveler over the whole country and always had news to tell to the holy brothers who lived in cells.
One night, as he was eating supper at an inn, four men came in and sat down at the table with him. By his magical power, Hugh knew that they were robbers and meant to kill him that night, in order to get his money.
So, to divert their attention, Hugh made something like a horn to grow up out of the table, and then laid a spell on the robbers, so that they were kept gazing at the curious thing all night long, while he went to bed and slept soundly.
When he rose in the morning, he paid his bill and went away, while the robbers were still gazing at the horn. Only when the officers arrived to take them to prison did they come to themselves.
Now at Bettws-y-Coed-that pretty place which has a name that sounds so funny to us Americans and suggests a girl named Betty the Co-ed at college—there was a hotel, named the “Inn of Three Kegs.” The shop sign hung out in front. It was a bunch of grapes gilded and set below three small barrels.
This inn was kept by two respectable ladies, who were sisters.
Yet in that very hotel, several travelers, while they were asleep, had been robbed of their money. They could not blame anyone nor tell how the mischief was done. With the key in the keyhole, they had kept their doors locked during the night. They were sure that no one had entered the room. There were no signs of men’s boots, or of anyone’s footsteps in the garden, while nothing was visible on the lock or door, to show that either had been tampered with. Everything was in order as when they went to bed.
Some people doubted their stories, but when they applied to Hugh the conjurer, he believed them and volunteered to solve the mystery. His motto was “Go anywhere and everywhere, but catch the thief.”
When Hugh applied one night for lodging at the inn, nothing could be more agreeable than the welcome, and fine manners of his two hostesses.
At supper time, and during the evening, they all chatted together merrily. Hugh, who was never at a loss for news or stories, told about the various kinds of people and the many countries he had visited, in imagination, just as if he had seen them all, though he had never set foot outside of Wales.
When he was ready to go to bed, he said to the ladies:
“It is my custom to keep a light burning in my room, all night, but I will not ask for candles, for I have enough to last me until sunrise.” So saying, he bade them good night.
Entering his room and locking the door, he undressed, but laid his clothes near at hand. He drew his trusty sword out of its sheath and laid it upon the bed beside him, where he could quickly grasp it. Then he pretended to be asleep and even snored.
It was not long before, peeping between his eyelids, only half closed, he saw two cats come stealthily down the chimney.
When in the room, the animals frisked about, and then gamboled and romped in the most lively way. Then they chased each other around the bed, as if they were trying to find out whether Hugh was asleep.
Meanwhile, the supposed sleeper kept perfectly motionless. Soon the two cats came over to his clothes and one of them put her paw into the pocket that contained his purse.
At this, with one sweep of his sword, Hugh struck at the cat’s paw. The beast howled frightfully, and both animals ran for the chimney and disappeared. After that, everything was quiet until breakfast time.
At the table, only one of the sisters was present. Hugh politely inquired after the other one. He was told that she was not well, for which Hugh said he was very sorry.
After the meal, Hugh declared he must say good-by to both the sisters, whose company he had so enjoyed the night before. In spite of the other lady’s many excuses, he was admitted to the sick lady’s room.
After polite greetings and mutual compliments, Hugh offered his hand to say “good-by.” The sick lady smiled at once and put out her hand, but it was her left one.
“Oh, no,” said Hugh, with a laugh. “I never in all my life have taken any one’s left hand, and, beautiful as yours is, I won’t break my habit by beginning now and here.”
Reluctantly, and as if in pain, the sick lady put out her hand. It was bandaged.
The mystery was now cleared up. The two sisters were cats.
By the help of bad fairies they had changed their forms and were the real robbers.
Hugh seized the hand of the other sister and made a little cut in it, from which a few drops of blood flowed, but the spell was over.
“Henceforth,” said Hugh, “you are both harmless, and I trust you will both be honest women.”
And they were. From that day they were like other women, and kept one of the best of those inns—clean, tidy, comfortable and at modest prices—for which Wales is, or was, noted.
Neither as cats with paws, nor landladies, with soaring bills, did they ever rob travelers again.
Welsh Fairy Tales
By WILLIAM ELLIOT GRIFFIS