Harvey Pig Boy

1. Auflage 2023
ISBN: 978-1-78864-980-3
Verlag: Cinnamon Press
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 344 Seiten

Cursed with love by his step-mother, Culhwch (Pig Boy) is condemned to love and marry Olwen, the daughter of the Hawthorn Giant-pitiless, violent and huge. So begins the quest-first to the court of King Arthur to wins support for the quest. In this earliest and earthiest of Arthurian tales, we are in the grip of the Otherworld, where landscape, nature and doing what we can to make a better future, no matter how impossible that might seem, are everything. Making a future despite the odds and despite the terrible and debilitating pain that afflicts Pig Boy as part of his love of Olwen will see him tested him again and again as he faces each task along the quest, the last to hunt the Great Wild Boar and seize the golden comb and scissors from between its ears so that the Hawthorn Giant can have his beard trimmed and hair combed for his daughter's wedding.

Michael Harvey was born in Glasgow and, by the age of 21, had found himself in Wales where he has been ever since. Michael caught the storytelling bug and has toured theatres, schools and village halls all over the world. He has won awards for his storytelling performances and enjoys collaborating with musicians, dancers and visual artists. When lockdown happened Michael had already self-published a book of Welsh folk tales that immediately became an amazon kindle #1 bestseller so he set-to to re-create Culhwch and Olwen, the biggest story in the Mabinogion, as a YA novel. And here it is-Pig Boy! When he's not writing the mythology of Wales for today's audience he is walking the land where the stories happened, in the company of friends, weaving their way through the songlines of Wales.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Harvey, Michael

Leseproben

Chapter 2   Pig Boy rode to the door of King Arthur’s court. To the legendary king of the Island of Britain. The door was firmly locked and bolted and there were no signs of life. A shrill wind spat sharp rain in his face, the water soaked to his skin and he shivered. Since nobody was coming to let him in, he got off his horse and hammered on the great oak door. He hammered until his fists hurt and the echoes billowed the interior of the great building. There was still no response, so he thumped with his fists again and yelled for the gatekeeper to open. Still, nothing. An angry warmth grew deep inside him. He felt his lungs suck the chill air and he bellowed, ‘Is there a gatekeeper?’ He heard his own words echo the corridors and halls inside and was taking another breath to shout again, when there was a shuffling approach on the other side of the door. ‘Yes there is!’ a man’s voice snapped, ‘I am the gatekeeper in Arthur’s court tonight and my name is Bravegrey Mightygrasp. What do you want?’ ‘I have come to see King Arthur, King of the Island of Britain and keeper of the Thirteen Treasures. Open the door!’ ‘No.’ ‘What do you mean, “no”?’ ‘Well, knife has gone into meat, wine has been poured into cup, there is coming and going in Arthur’s court and none may enter except the first born son of a mighty king, a master craftsman or a master musician, and I can tell, by the tone of your voice, that you are none of those. Now, go!’ Standing in the wind and stinging rain, ridiculous and miserable, the bravura and swagger wilted inside Pig Boy. He looked at the horse beside him, ears pricked, nostrils flared for adventure. The horse shook his head and jangled the rich ornaments on his bridle and snorted disapproval. Pig Boy looked down at himself and saw his rich purple cloak, trimmed with gold, his gold-hilted sword, and felt the weight of the twisted gold torque round his neck. Then he summoned whatever words and magic had been uttered in that stable over the previous day and a half, lifted his head and shouted in a voice that rattled the iron studs of the door. ‘Open the door! If you do not, I will go from here and bring shame and disgrace on your head and the head of your king for your churlishness and lack of generosity!’ There was no response. ‘And before I go, I will shout three times!’ Pig Boy could feel the man listening through the door. He was certain he had his ear to the crack between the two huge doors, so he stepped forward and spoke, firmly and gently, about two inches from where the man’s ear was cocked. ‘At my first shout, all the men in Arthur’s court will lose their strength!’ He waited for the implications to sink in and then drew another breath. ‘At my second shout, all the pregnant women in Arthur’s court will miscarry!’ Pig Boy thought he heard a gulp from the other side of the door. ‘And at my third shout,’ his voice crescendoed to a terrible bellow, ‘all the women who are not pregnant in Arthur’s court will be barren forever!’ Which would mean the end of the kingdom and Arthur as king. There was a pause and then a more hesitant version of Mightygrasp’s voice came through the crack. ‘Don’t go. I’ll see what I can do.’ Apart from turning away unwanted guests, one of Mightygrasp’s favourite things was the moment he walked into the feasting hall with news from the gate. Voices would still, eyes would turn to him, the king would grant him his attention and say the words Mightygrasp loved to hear most. ‘Gatekeeper, is there news from the gate?’ Mightygrasp milked the pause and, with a bow to his king, launched into his news with a preamble. ‘My lord, great king, son of Uthr Bendragon, I have been with you on your campaigns and journeys over the world and seen many great and unforgettable things in my time in your service.’ All this was supposedly directed at the king, but he was playing those seated in the feasting hall and cast his gaze round the intent faces, enjoying how they hung on his words, how his singsong cadences and timed pauses kept them on the edge of their seats. ‘We have travelled together through the whole wide world.’ He was getting into his rhythm and strode, pausing and gesticulating at the right moment, filling the great hall with expectation and wonder. ‘We have been in Scandinavia, France, Greater India and Lesser India.’ Everyone there had heard this many times, but although Mightygrasp was overplaying his role, nobody begrudged his demands on their attention or his hammy delivery—they loved him for it. ‘We have visited Lotor and Ffotor together and also Sal and Salach.’ He was not afraid of inventing places he was supposed to have visited with Arthur. This was for effect, to delay the moment of giving the news, one he could no longer put off. ‘In all those lands we have seen many great, mighty and fantastic kings but, never, in our travels, have I seen a man as startling and extraordinary as the one who now stands at your door.’ This last word was delivered at such a pitch it made the rafters ring. Arthur replied. ‘Well, if you came in walking, go out running! It does not do to keep such a man waiting in the wind and rain.’ Mightygrasp scuttled out, glowing with post-show satisfaction. As the hum of conversation filled the hall once more, a tall, slim figure turned to Arthur and spoke. It was Cai, his greatest warrior. ‘My lord, if you took my advice you would not change the rules of this court for the sake of one young stranger.’ ‘Cai, my friend. Do not worry. It is through our generosity our fame spreads. And if he is half as interesting as Mightygrasp says, he will be worth seeing.’ Mightygrasp pulled back the wooden bar that held the double doors firmly shut. Servants rushed to join him and heaved the gates open so Pig Boy could enter. Pig Boy had remounted, and they were expecting him to get off his horse to stable the animal, but that did not happen. Pig Boy trotted past, straight to the doors of the hall. Mightygrasp and the servants stared after. The doors of the feasting hall opened and, even then, Pig Boy did not dismount but slowed his horse to a walk. Then, before the astonished gaze of those present, he rode up to the king and looked down at him from his finely wrought, gold-inlaid saddle, one hand on the reins, the other on his hip. Some surrounding the king exchanged glances. Just the right mixture of impudence and respect combined with a lively sense of occasion. If nothing else this would be a story to tell later and, as events turned out, they weren’t wrong. ‘High King Arthur, I come to ask a favour. If you grant it, I will prove myself worthy, but if it is denied I will go through this great wide world bringing shame and disgrace on your head for your lack of generosity.’ All eyes were on the king. ‘Ask for what you want, young stranger, and you shall have it, whatever it may be. Just name it and I will grant it to you.’ The king paused, ‘So long as it is not my sword, or my throne, or my knife, or my horse, or my cloak, or my dog, or my boat, or my spear.’ Gwenhwyfar, the queen, discreetly touched her husband’s arm. ‘Or my wife,’ he added. ‘The thing I want is no small thing,’ Pig Boy said, his young voice resounding round the hall, ‘and I ask for it not merely in my own name but in the names of all assembled here.’ He cast his gaze wide among the great and famous people gathered and every single one had their eyes trained on him, waiting. One by one he named every person in the hall. He would catch someone’s eye and sing their name and tell one of the stories about them. He looked at the tall, slim man sat in the seat of honour beside the king and, gesturing to him, his voice rang. ‘I name Cai! Greatest warrior in Arthur’s court. He defeats all who stand against him. We have all heard of the heat his body gives off in battle. It is enough to melt snow on a mountain peak, to warm a company of men on a winter’s night. ‘Let me tell you how he can hold his breath for nine days and nine nights, even underwater if need be. If he takes a piece of iron in hand with him, when he emerges from the river, that iron will be as dry as a bone for a hand’s breadth above and below where he holds it. All because of the heat of his body.’ There were nods of approval and admiration from around the hall. ‘I name Bedwyr One-handed! Another of Arthur’s greatest warriors. He can kill and wound more quickly with his one hand than three men can with both hands free. He is also one of Arthur’s most handsome warriors.’ Pig Boy was only too aware that his praise of Bedwyr was not as fulsome as he had given Cai. In an inspired moment, he had chosen to appeal to the most vulnerable and dangerous part of a warrior’s character as compensation. His vanity. And it worked, Bedwyr smiled. He named Gwrhir Gwarthegfras, the tall man with the fat cattle. He named Taliesin, chief of all poets with the shining forehead of prophecy and inspiration. He named Gwyn ap Nudd the King of the Otherworld. He named the wise, the brave and the famous. He named the eagle-eyed, the sharp-eared and the great eaters. He named the beautiful, the ugly, the ferocious and the sly. Each one was named and each had his story told by Pig Boy. All he had to do was catch someone’s gaze, see their face for an instant and the story jumped complete from his mouth. The crowd loved it. He took his focus to different parts of the hall, keeping everyone on their toes,...