Hywel the Good

By John Broughton

Hywel, the King of Dyfed, falls in love with Elen, the beautiful young daughter of the deceased King of Dyfed. Their betrothal makes political sense, as it unites the two kingdoms, but their love for each other is genuine. Hywel becomes a just and wise king, introducing reforms to the Welsh legal system and forging alliances with neighboring kingdoms.

After going on a pilgrimage to Rome to get his law code approved by the Pope, Hywel gets caught up in political intrigue and seduced by a powerful Roman noblewoman. Back in Wales, he has to deal with a rebellion by the eldest son of the deceased King of Brycheiniog. Despite these challenges, Hywel strives to be a virtuous and enlightened king, and remains beloved by his people.

Based on the life of a true historical figure, John Broughton's 'Hywel The Good' is the story of one of the most important characters in Welsh history, remembered for his reforms to the Welsh legal system, and his efforts to unite the kingdoms of South Wales.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Apr 12, 2023

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ONE

Pennal, northern Seisyllwg and Carmarthen, Dyfed, A.D. 904-905

Sophistication is the quality of understanding the world and its ways and how people behave. Young Prince Hywel possessed that attribute in rare abundance for his age. Fortunate to have his grandfather, Rhodri the Great, as his family hero and the example to follow, the boy grew up with tales of heroic courage but also of ingenuity and conniving. His father, Cadell ap Rhodri was not the firstborn son and, therefore, did not inherit the throne of Gwynedd when Rhodri fell in battle against the Mercians. That privilege went to Anarawd ap Rhodri, who, at the time, was unmarried. Cadell shrewdly took his new-born son, Anarawd’s first nephew, into his uncle’s embrace. Thenceforth, the soon-to-be King of Gwynedd had a remarkable fondness for young Hywel.

Anarawd was blessed with a strong sense of family ties, which could be appreciated when his attempt to gain the throne of Seisyllwg by suspected execrable means produced a violent reaction. Many nobles were convinced that he had played an underhand role in the drowning of King Gwgon, who died without an heir. Since Anarawd had no legal claim to that kingdom, with one eye on Hywel’s future, he installed his brother, Cadell, as king.

Hywel’s parents shrewdly understood the importance of maintaining Hywel close to his uncle and encouraged his love of Anglesey, allowing him to spend many summers in Anarawd’s court at Aberffraw. A strong bond developed between uncle and nephew, strengthened by Anarawd’s periodic visits to Seisyllwg during the fallow months.

Hywel grew physically strong, following the family tradition of swordsmanship and cure of athleticism from a young age. Cadell had watched his father, Rhodri, train with the imperious warrior, Alun ap Drystan from a young age and wanted Hywel to tread the same path. For this reason, he brought Owain ap Alun to his court to tutor the boy in the art of swordsmanship. Owain had to return to his family in Gwynedd when Hywel was thirteen winters old, but the tutor explained that there was little more he could impart to such a promising pupil. The lad had grown tall and handsome and seemed more like a young man than a boy. Two years later, this physical growth played directly into his father’s hands. In 904, a neighbouring king, Llywarch ap Hyfaidd died, leaving a beautiful daughter, Elen, and no sons.

Cadell took Hywel aside and explained, The King of Dyfed has died without an heir. That kingdom is now open to adventurers, especially because his daughter is so fair of aspect. There will be many who look past her beauty to the vacant throne. Do you understand my meaning, Hywel?

Ay, Father, but why do you not march into Dyfed to protect the princess from villains who wish to seize her patrimony?

I have a better idea. Look, you are now on the threshold of manhood and I dare say that you could put many a grown man on his back in a fight. Do you not think that a gracious princess, so becoming of countenance, might make you a suitable spouse?

Mother, what do you think?

Rheingar smiled sweetly at her son. In truth, she saw more of a boy than a man before her, as mothers do, even though he was twenty-four. She had busily informed herself: Elen, the Dyfed princess had only seventeen winters to her name, so the match was feasible.

"I? You have an old head on young shoulders. You will soon learn to govern a kingdom."

Nay, Mother, not that. I’m more worried about marriage. How am I supposed to make a husband for a girl I do not know?

Oh, that’s easy enough. You have to show her consideration and kindness, and love will blossom sure enough, for you are a good-looking young fellow. You take after your mother!

Harumph! Cadell’s fist struck the table. It’s decided then, we’ll take a goodly number of men, in case of resistance; thus we’ll take the throne and announce your betrothal.

Don’t you think, Father, that Princess Elen will want a say in her betrothal?

Stuff and nonsense! She’ll take one look at you and fall head over heels in love; mark my words. You’ll soon both be king and queen.

The idea of becoming king appeals to me; I hope that Elen is the beauty you make her out to be.

Even if she’s plain, she brings the throne with her. When I’m gone, you’ll be able to unite our two kingdoms. Think of that!

Hywel puffed out his cheeks. He knew his father was right, but he resented being a pawn in a game he still hadn’t learnt.

They rode out from Pennal, Cadell’s capital close to Gwynedd, with two hundred men behind them to follow the west coast as far as Aberystwyth; thence they proceeded overland, rising slowly over a distance of nine leagues until they had to cross the River Teifi by boat.

King Cadell pointed out, That is an ancient hillfort, Hywel. We shall camp there this evening. Its name is Craig Gwtheyrn, although some call it Vortigern’s Castle after the ancient warlord who lived here many lifetimes ago. Legend tells that Vortigern, fleeing from Saint Germanus, built a castle by this river. A fire brought from Heaven by the saint’s prayers set the castle alight; Vortigern, his family and the other castle inhabitants perished.

Let’s hope that we have done nothing to offend the saint, Father.

Nay, we can blame Vortigern for the loss of Britain to the pagan Saxons. He fled here, but a tyrant cannot hide from divine justice; remember that, my lad.

The following day they set out on what they knew would be a two-day journey to the capital, Carmarthen. They encountered no obstacles and arrived at the ancient walled town.

The Romans built these walls. Look at the large dressed stones, and over yonder is an amphitheatre—

A what?

An arena for fighting to entertain a crowd.

I’d have been good at that, Father.

"Ay, no doubt you would, boy. Let’s see if you can conquer a maiden’s heart, which is the most important challenge for you this day."

Hywel gave his father a withering look, but it went unnoticed as the king attempted entry into the town.

Princess Elen was dressed in mourning, but the sombre cloth did not detract from her beauty since she was raven-haired and her oval face was pale of complexion. Her full lips were cherry red and Hywel found her stunningly attractive. As for the maiden, she lowered her head and peered at the young prince under long eyelashes. Hitherto, she had received no courtiers since her father had deemed her too young and himself indestructible.

She was an intelligent woman and understood why the delegation had come so many miles to her palace. Also, if needed, she had the benefit of her father’s counsellors to advise her. What she saw through the veil of her lashes pleased her. Prince Hywel vaunted an athletic figure, the upper body a pleasing V-shape with broad shoulders, biceps, and pectoral muscles discernible under his tunic. This perfect musculature was offset by blond hair, a high brow with thick eyebrows on either side of a high-bridged nose. She told herself that the prince was a handsome fellow … but would his personality match his looks?

She thought of her father’s gentle nature and tears spilt down her cheeks. Hywel darted ahead and made bold to seize her hand. He squeezed it gently and said, Sweet lady, I am saddened by your loss. Nobody can replace your father, but become my betrothed and I promise to restore the smile to that lovely face.

So, she concluded, not only was he good-looking, but he was also sensitive and romantic. What else should she seek in a man? Betrothed? But Prince Hywel, we do not know each other.

Lady, I feel that I have known you forever since you are so perfect! But you are right. I will not rush you because you need time to make my acquaintance. If you find me suitable, we shall no doubt make an announcement. For the present, do you have a place for me to rest? The journey has been wearisome.

She summoned a servant, who led him with his father to a guest chamber.

What do you think of the princess, Hywel?

Who could fail to be captivated by her beauty, Father?

Excellent! Cadell almost rubbed his hands together in glee. Dyfed, in the hands of his son, would make him as powerful as his elder brother in Gwynedd. But first, Hywel had to convince the princess of his suit. It was time to give him some fatherly advice.

Hywel listened respectfully and attentively, but could not help but think that intuition would serve him better than advice. In this he was correct, and his father should have relied on his son’s positive personality.

Princess Elen couldn’t believe her good fortune that such an eligible young man should be her suitor. Their walks by the River Towy and his purchase of fresh salmon and trout caught there for her table were memorable. She found him witty and interesting, and soon found that she hoped he would renew his proposal of betrothal, but was too discreet to hint at it herself.

Random chance helped her cause as they walked again by the river.

Look Elen! An osprey is striking! It emerged from the water with a fish grasped in its talons. Do you believe in omens? He didn’t wait for her reply. I do, for they help me in my search for meaning and purpose in a world that often seems confusing and overwhelming. This bird is a powerful symbol of change, even transformation. It has flown into your life, sweet lady, and suggests a major change in your life, no matter how difficult it may seem.

Can seeing a bird mean all that, Hywel? What major change do you suppose it portends?

Momentous, but not calamitous. I would use foretell rather than portend.

"What then should it foretell, Prince?"

I would hope it foretells our betrothal, fair lady. What say you?

Oh, I say, ay. Ay, we shall be betrothed. She drew close to him for the requisite seal of a loving kiss.

He took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers for a lingering kiss, feeling the thrill shake through her. There, it is done, sweet Elen; we are betrothed and we should go to make an official announcement. I will tell my father and you will speak with your counsellors. I believe you would do well to inform the bishop first.

It shall be so! Look! The osprey is flying low over the river. Hywel, it will be the symbol of our love.

What better? In many societies, ospreys are often seen as a sign of good fortune and they are considered very positive spiritual animals. It represents independence, courage, and strength. It is also a symbol of protection, making it an excellent guardian.

You know so many things, Hywel.

My parents have always instructed me and I pay close attention. The osprey is an excellent spiritual guide for those who seek to find their strength and learn to stand on their own two feet. So, it is ideal for we two, starting as king and queen of Dyfed, my love. I hope I shall honour your father’s tradition.

If I had any doubts, we would not be betrothed. Let’s go and do what is necessary.

Elen sought out the bishop and made her intentions clear.

The wise old head, covered in snowy white hair, nodded sagely. Your father would be pleased and proud, my lady. It is a wise move and if I might say so, your choice is admirable. I know Prince Hywel is a devout Christian and never forsakes his spiritual duties. He is young, but with a wise head and will make a suitable head of a family.

Elen blushed a violent red. She hadn’t thought about making children.

The bishop smiled indulgently. But it is only natural that there will be offspring, Princess; that is part of God’s plan for you. Hark! Let me take part of your burden—allow me to inform the other members of the council so that there will be a smooth acceptance of your decision. Meanwhile, you have my wholehearted approval. Dyfed will be strengthened by the presence of a friendly Seisyllwg on its border. And our kingdom can look forward to a glorious future with its young monarchs.

Thank you, Excellency, I’m blessed to have you as a friend.

Hywel’s task was much easier.

Great news, Father! Elen and I are betrothed. She is at present informing her counsellors, beginning with the Bishop of Meneva. Will you come and assure her that Seisyllwg will always be a friend to Dyfed?

Of course, provided that the king of Dyfed allies with Seisyllwg!

At the beginning of 905, Hywel and Elen wedded and within the same week, the Bishop of Meneva anointed Hywel king and to satisfy the lords of Dyfed, anointed his spouse queen and placed a gold circlet on her head. Rarely were monarchs so totally well received. Elen had a painting of a striking osprey hung over the head of their bed, whereas Hywel ordered a life-size wooden statue of Our Lady of Grace placed in the corner of the chamber, her hands outstretched as if imparting grace to the beloved couple.

TWO

Carmarthen, Dyfed, A.D. 907

Hywel had taken to kingship in Dyfed like a swirling swift to an air current. Whenever he could seize the opportunity, he rode out to hunt or indulge in a little falconry in the Carmarthen countryside. It was on one of these excursions that Hywel and his small retinue came upon an unpleasant domestic scene. A man flung a woman, who turned out to be his wife, out of their house in a heap on the ground and slammed the door on her.

The king rode over, passed his falcon to a retainer, and dismounted with a sprightly leap to bend over the weeping woman. She raised her head to look at him, not that she could see very much. Both eyes were swollen from a beating, her face was bruised and reddened as well as tear-stained. Gently, Hywel helped the groaning woman to her feet. The king suspected that the brute had damaged her ribs.

Come, he called to one of his men, lift her onto my horse. I will have her treated for this abuse.

With the woman sat astride his mount, Hywel strode over to the door and battered on it with his fist. Slowly the door opened an inch, and an eye peeped out at him.

Hywel thrust the door open with force, sending the man staggering backwards.

Here! Who the devil do you think you are, breaking into my home?

I am your king, and if you don’t keep a civil tongue in your head, I’ll have it cut out. Hark! Tomorrow morning you will present yourself at my court, where we’ll discuss what to do with you and your wife.

Ay, Sire. Forgive me, I did not recognise you. I’ll be there tomorrow as you command. Suddenly, the man became subservient and cowed.

Hywel did not wish to remain amid what he considered to be squalor although, in truth, the small home was orderly and reasonably clean.

The king ordered one of his riders to dismount and cede him his horse. He took the reins of his own horse and led it slowly towards the city. Make your way on foot, good fellow, he told the retainer. Unless—he suddenly thought—woman, do you have a pony or a donkey?

Even a nod of the head caused her pain, but bravely she raised a finger and pointed to an outhouse. Moments later, his companion was mounted on a pony, and the small party moved slowly so as not to cause the woman more pain than necessary. After an hour of curtailed falconry, they arrived back in the town where servants took the horses to the stables whilst two men helped the woman stagger into the palace.

Hywel called for the queen and rapidly told her what he had come across.

The vile brute! Elen cried. There’s far too much of this sort of thing going on in our realm.

Not for much longer, said Hywel with a determined set to his jaw that made his queen gaze hard at him.

I’ll have her bathed and her wounds treated, she said. Come with me, my dear. Help her to walk! she instructed two serving maids.

When she’s in a fit state, I wish to speak with her. I need to discover what caused the man to become a brute.

An hour later, the woman appeared before the king. Her face was still red and swollen, but not as violent as before and instead of her dirty clothes, she wore a fine cloth gown that flattered her shapely figure.

Can you speak now, woman?

Ay, Sire, and thank you for caring for me. Her voice was weak but understandable, despite her split lip.

Is this the first time your husband has beaten you?

Nay, he beats me whenever I do anything wrong. She began to weep. Gathering herself, she managed, I wish to separate from him.

Then, so you shall. Tell me what you did to deserve such a thrashing?

I was milking our cow. It was my fault. When I stood up, the heifer moved and nudged me. I lost my balance and kicked over the full milk pail. I couldn’t move fast enough to save the milk. It meant that Gwion couldn’t make cheese to sell today. Oh, it’s all my fault!

The queen, who had arrived silently, placed her hand on the woman’s arm. Nonsense, Dillena, it was an accident and could have happened to anybody.

Oh, my lady, Gwion used to love me, but now he’s grown harsh and unforgiving. It’s all my fault! Sire, you will not punish him, I hope. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

Only the just amount, girl. Have no worries. Who is your father, and where is he?

My father is the miller at Pensarn. He has the water mill on the Towy.

Ah, I know it. It is close to the palace; I often pass it on my rides.

Ay, Sire, it’s less than two miles from here.

The king called a servant and gave him a silver coin. Buy me this coin’s worth of flour from Pensarn Mill and tell the miller I want him in attendance in the morning.

The servant bowed and hurried away.

Woman, the king addressed a lady in waiting, see that this wretched girl has a decent meal in the kitchen; she looks as if she needs good food.

When she had gone from their presence, the king sent a message to the bishop, requesting his presence in court the following morning.

"What did you mean when you said not for much longer, Hywel?"

You will see tomorrow, my love. We cannot allow such behaviour in our kingdom.

Dillena was lucky that he didn’t break her ribs. He deserves a good beating tomorrow.

No, my sweet, we must do everything correctly. Leave it to me.

The following day, a well-scrubbed and combed Gwion presented himself before the king, who said, I want to know why you beat your wife so severely.

The stupid wench deserved it, Sire. She wasted all my best milk by kicking over the pail.

"The stupid wench is my subject and belongs to me as much as you. Ah, here is her father! I have a good mind to let him deal with you." He musingly eyed the miller, his bulging muscles tempered by heaving sacks of flour.

The farmer visibly cringed but found the courage to say, It’s the custom that a man may chastise his wife when she displeases him.

"Not anymore, Gwion. I am the King of Dyfed and I make the law. That is why the bishop graces us with his presence. You should know the following: first, your wife is not a stupid wench, but you are a stupid wretch, for by your insane violence, you have lost your farm, which now belongs to your wife-father, Ener the Miller.

Hark, Ener, my wife and I have decided that Dillena will be separated from Gwion if she desires and that half the property will be hers. Hence, you will be the custodian of your daughter’s half, which Gwion will pay you in produce, such as cheese, eggs, hens, and so forth, if you choose to let him remain on your property and work the land.

But, Sire, my wife loves me!

The pathetic young woman with two black eyes shook her head. I loved you once, Gwion, but you have beaten the love out of me. I wish to go my own way.

Don’t you dare! Gwion’s face grew puce with rage and a vein pulsed at his neck.

Don’t threaten my new chambermaid, warned Elen. Or I shall have you flogged!

Sorry, my lady. It is as his majesty says.

The king looked around the gathering with grim satisfaction. "Ener, go with Gwion and make your arrangements, but restrain yourself, and do not beat him. Justice has been served. You are all dismissed except Bishop Eidwenn. Bishop, I wish to speak with you in private,