THE MYSTERIES OF AVALON: APPENDIX II

APPENDIX II

The Thirteen Treasures of

the Island of Britain and

Their Ritual Uses

According to fairly late Welsh tradition, ‘the Thirteen Treasures of the Island of Britain… were brought together by Myrddin in Avalon.’ Avalon is identified with the House of Glass or Ty-Gwydr, localized in Bardsey, an island off Anglesey famous for its saints. Ty-Gwydr is an echo of Caer Wydr, the Fort of Glass, or rather the Fort of Green Grass, the Fairy Mound/chambered tomb conceived as the symbolic Otherworld or the portal to the Otherworld. Caer Wydr itself was linked via specious etymology with Glastonbury as Avalon. We have seen above that the real Avalon is the fort at Burgh-By-Sands in Cumbria. Myrddin does not belong to Bardsey or Glastonbury, but to Lowland Scotland.

The Thirteen Treasures are magical items that represent aspects or elemental forces of Nature that can be harnessed by a druidic adept. I will list below the items themselves, how they are described by the Welsh texts, their revealed forms and to what use they may be put in a ritual context.

Gwen, the Cloak of Arthur (= the Cloak of Caswallon of the Catuvellauni): whoever went under it would see everybody, and nobody would see him wherever he went.

Gwen is the feminine form of Welsh gwyn and means ‘white, fair, blessed’. This cloak is emblematic of the cloud, which hides the sun, the moon, the stars, the day or night sky, a mountain top or even earthly landscapes in the case of fog. A king or druidic priest who dons such a cloak is identifying himself with one or the other of the objects a cloud can obscure. The ritual use of a cloud-cloak is obvious: to be hidden from one’s enemy or from negative energies projected at oneself is to provide oneself with a certain measure of protection. What cannot be seen cannot be found, and what cannot be found cannot be harmed.

Another treasure imparting invisibility was imported to the list from later Arthurian romance. This is ‘the Stone and Ring of Eluned the Blessed: which she gave to extricate Owein son of Urien, who was between the portcullis and the gate, contending with the Black Knight of the Fountain. That ring has a stone in it and if the stone were concealed, the one who concealed it would not be seen at all.’ We see in this object the operation of a typical sympathetic magic effect, in which the wearer identifies himself with the ring’s stone.

Dyrnwyn, the Sword of Rhydderch of Strathclyde: whoever drew it from its scabbard, it would go into a flame of fire about his head from its hilt to its tip, except for the person that owned it; and he would refuse nobody the loan of it, and when its properties were known it was given back to the person who owned it. And because of that he was called Rhydderch the Generous.

This sword-name means, literally, ‘White Fist’. However, Welsh dyrn, ‘fist’, may originally have had the meaning of ‘stone the size of a fist’. Scottish Dornock, Dornoch are from a Celtic *durnaco-, ‘site covered with fist-sized pebbles’. For this reason Dyrnwyn, a flaming sword, should be equated with the Roman Jupiter Lapis, a stone representing the heavenly lightning once it had fallen to earth. The Romans swore oaths on this lightning-stone. Some have theorized that the stone of Jupiter was actually a fragment of a meteorite, but as Jupiter was the god of thunder and lightning, it is more likely his stone was a fire-striking material like flint. A sword named Dyrnwyn could thus be used during rituals for the swearing of oaths or, alternately, a shard of flint could be substituted. A fire struck from a ‘Dyrnwyn flint’ would be purifying in nature, and such a fire could be lit during the taking of sacred oaths.

The Hamper of Gwyddno Long-shank: food for one man would be put into it and food for a hundred men would be found in it when it was opened.

The hamper is here an error or substitute for the fishing weir of Gwyddno, which was noted not only for catching salmon – an animal in Celtic religion strongly associated with divine knowledge – but for ensnaring the prophet-poet Taliesin, who in the Cad Godeu poem assumes the form of a salmon. The hamper or weir of Gwyddno is thus the receptacle of the holy salmon of wisdom. Participants in a feast of the salmon of wisdom partake of the god’s immortality, this being the immortality of the soul, not of the physical body. Christians adopted this symbology when they partook of Christ’s solar body in the form of a fish.

The Horn of Bran the Hardy, son of Ymellyrn. Ymellyrn = Y Maelor in North Wales, where is found Castell Dinas Bran or Corbenic the Grail Castle. Kynwyd, father of Ymellyrn = Cynwyd and the Cynwyd Forest just west of Dinas Bran. ‘The drink which was asked for would be found in it when wished for.’

We have seen in the chapter that discusses that Grail and its evolution from pagan prototypes that Bran’s original cauldron represented a sacred lake, which for the ancient Celts was viewed as an entrance to the Otherworld. Bran’s cauldron was associated with that of the smith god Goibhniu. As Goibhniu was linked with the fire within the earth, and thus probably with volcanoes – as was true of his Greek and Roman counterpart, Hephaistos/Vulcan – we must consider that his cauldron may originally have been patterned after lakes that form in the craters of extinct or dormant volcanoes. Such lakes may boil, vent gases and even explode. For ritual purposes, a cauldron of water kept simmering over a fire (perhaps one started with a Dyrnwyn flint) can symbolize the smith god’s lake. Sacrificial meals or drinks may be prepared in this cauldron, or items requiring purification may be immersed in the water.

In some versions of the list of Thirteen Treasures are found the dish of Agwneren the Cleric or the pot and dish of Rhagenydd the Cleric: ‘the food wished for in it would be found.’ These items are described as horns of plenty, and would seem to complement the liquid-containing cauldron of Bran the Hardy. However, I discount them as Christian intrusions. Both Agwneren and Rhagenydd are said to be clerics, i.e. Christian priests. Their ‘dish’ was unlikely to have been a patera or shallow bowl for offering libations, as that was a pagan custom. Instead, it may have been the paten, a small plate used to hold the Eucharistic Host that is to be consecrated. Rhagenydd’s pot may have been a fire pot or censer.

The Chariot of Morgan the Wealthy of Strathclyde: whoever went into it and wished to be where he desired, he would be there.

This is, of course, not an actual physical vehicle. Rather, Morgan’s chariot stands for the attainment of a transcendental or shamanistic state of being. The chariot is, as it were, a veritable mandala for transportive meditation. It thus assists in the movement among spiritual realms.

The Knife of Llawfrodedd [= llawfrydedd, ‘sorrow, misery, dejectedness, wretchedness, melancholy’] the Bearded [of ?]: which would serve twenty-four men at once from table to table when there might be need.

The meaning of the name of the personage who supposedly owns this ‘knife’ provides us with the clue to understanding its utility. It is used to ‘cut away’ sadness or grief or, indeed, any negative, draining emotion which is inhibiting the development of a person into a fully-realized, multi-faceted being. Excessive or prolonged sadness or grief can lie at the root of chronic conditions like depression. A ritual performed with the Knife of Llawfrodedd can thus help clear the psyche of emotional impediments.

The Halter of Clydno of Din Eiddyn: which was below the foot of his bed. Whatever horse he wished for would be in it when he wished.

The ‘horse’ alluded to here is whatever person Clydno needed in order to get him where he wanted to go. In other words, the ‘halter’ is a species of binding spell. Not a binding spell in the sense of enslavement, mind you, but of the application of positive direction. We all know people in our lives who would somehow benefit us if only they could be steered clear of error and transgression. Such people, when they take a wrong turn on the path, can, directly or indirectly, adversely affect our own lives. On the other hand, when properly guided – not against their will, but with their own freely granted understanding and approval – the very same individuals can vastly improve their own lot. And with everyone headed on parallel tracks towards their own unparalleled destinations, the world of man is brought ever closer to an existence that does not require binding of any sort.

The Cauldron of Tyrnoc the Giant of Ireland: if flesh for a coward were put into it, it would never boil, and if put in for a brave man, it would quickly boil enough; and then the distinction would be made between a brave man and a coward.

We have discussed above Tyrnoc as St. Tigernach, and how the cauldron of Midir at Bri Leith has here become fused with the symbolism implicit in the Christian chalice. But why did this particular cauldron (or chalice) come to be recognized as a test for courage and cowardliness? The answer is easier to come by than one might expect: in the Irish sagas, the warriors of a chieftain would frequently engage in personal combats for the so-called ‘champion’s portion’ of a cauldron-boiled boar. Those who refused to participate in such contests were doubtless thought of as cowards, while only the bravest, the strongest and the most skilled stood to win the best cut of cooked meat. Obviously, no sensible, modern druid would propose that all members of a circle fight each other for the champion’s portion of a sacrificial feast! Instead, the food prepared for such a feast should be blessed in a way that confers upon that food the quality of the bestowing of bravery upon whoever consumes it. This way, rather than acting as a highly divisive element in ritual performance, the cauldron of Tyrnoc further unifies a circle by increasing each member’s level of personal courage.

The Coat of Padarn Red-tunic: for a nobleman it would fit well, and for a churl it would not fit.

Class distinctions were for the ancient and medieval periods, and have no place in modern, democratic druidic ritual. So while it is important to adhere to tradition, it sometimes becomes necessary to alter previous practice and belief. In the case of Padarn’s tunic, we know that the Welshman who recorded this tradition took grave liberties with it to begin with! The tunic in question actually belonged to St. Padarn, and the story of it is told in the Life of St. Padarn thusly:

“When Padarn was in his church resting after so much labour at sea, a certain tyrant, Arthur by name, was traversing the regions on either side, who one day came to the cell of saint Padarn the bishop. And while he was addressing Padarn, he looked at the tunic, which he, being pierced with the zeal of avarice, sought for his own. The saint answering said, ‘This tunic is not fitting for the habit of any malign person, but for the habit of the clerical office.’ He went out of the monastery in a rage. And again he returns in wrath, that he might take away the tunic against the counsels of his own companions. One of the disciples of Padarn seeing him returning in fury, ran to saint Padarn and said, ‘The tyrant, who went from here before, is returning. Reviling, stamping, he levels the ground with his feet’. Padarn answers ‘Nay rather, may the earth swallow him.’ With the word straightway the earth opens the hollow of its depth, and swallows Arthur up to his chin. He immediately acknowledging his guilt begins to praise both God and Padarn, until, while he begs forgiveness, the earth delivered him up. From that place on bent knees he begged the saint for indulgence, whom the saint forgave. And he took Padarn as his continual patron, and so departed.”

So, in reality, the tunic of Padarn does not distinguish between high-born and low-born men. It instead symbolizes the raimant worn by a person pure of spirit, in contrast to that worn by a person whose soul is consumed with the need to conquer and possess everything it sees around it. Arthur here, as he does in several saints’ Lives, appears as just such an evil tyrant for didactic purposes. In ritual, a Padarn’s tunic could be donned by any member of a druidic circle for the express purpose of aiding in the quelling of avarice or lust or other base desires which, if exercised, can have damaging or disastrous consequences.

The Whetstone of Tudwal People-Defender of Strathclyde: it would sharpen the weapon of a brave man, and blunt the weapon of a coward, and if it was used to sharpen the sword of a brave man then anyone wounded with the sword would be sure to die. If the sword belonged to a coward, the man struck with it would be none the worse.

The lesson of this treasure is simple: no matter what weapon a coward has, it will eventually fail him in battle. And this realization leads to an important question. Can any weapon given to someone who is suffering from cowardice in a specific situation or set of circumstances or who has a naturally meek or submissive personality contribute to the development of genuine strength of character? Or can one’s inherent spiritual weapon be honed to the point where it exhibits the sharp edge of a brave warrior’s sword?

Both Tudwal’s name and epithet are important in this context. Tudwal means ‘People-ruler’. The implication is that a chieftain-like figure who possesses the ability to rule and the ability to defend does so primarily out of personal bravery. This bravery arises out of a profound sense of confidence. However, while ruling and defending by virtue of this peculiar brand of courage, the chieftain instills in his people a shared bravery, a true communal courage. The potentiality for this communal courage resides with the whetstone. Any weapon, whether psychic or physical, that is exposed to its power contributes to the combined courage of the members of the circle. This treasure, then, is the natural complement of Tyrnoc’s cauldron, wherein resides personal bravery.

The Chess Board of Gwenddolau son of Ceidio: if the men were placed on it they would play by themselves; the men were gold and the board was silver.

This chess set (actually ‘gwyddbwyll’, cf. Irish fidchell or fid-ciall, ‘wood-intelligence’) resembles that played by Arthur and Owain son of Urien in the Welsh tale The Dream of Rhonabwy. In this story, the moving of pieces on the board manifests itself as actual battles being fought simultaneously between armies. The game could thusly be used as a means of instructing would-be commanders in the practical application of strategy and tactics in warfare. It could be said that Arthur and Owain – or the Northern chieftain Gwenddolau – were controlling and manipulating the fates of their own soldiers. On the surface, the exertion of this kind of control may seem morally reprehensible, perhaps even blatantly evil. We have seen in our modern world, however, that military force is often necessary to defend the homeland or to protect the peace either here or abroad. This kind of control over the very life of men and women, a control that frequently leads to maiming or death, is not something to be undertaken lightly. Only a truly wise leader, who through careful deliberation has determined that no other option is available, will send his people forth to do battle with an enemy.

In a ritual sense, the significance of this treasure lies in its ability to peacefully resolve conflicts within the druidic circle. Such a claim may seem ironic in the extreme, but for a conflict to be allowed, and for its results to be sanctioned, it must lie within the purview of the divine powers. If a disagreement arises within a druidic circle that cannot otherwise be settled by majority or super-majority vote, two members of the opposing sides, of as close to equal ability as possible, shall be chosen to play gwyddbwyll. The victor’s position will then be accepted by all members of the circle, either as policy or sacred law, depending on the nature of the point of disagreement. If, after an agreed upon term the position put into practice by the victor has proven unsatisfactory, the group may either revert to the position held prior to the victory or a new gwyddbwyll game can be played to establish yet another position as the prevailing one.

The Coulter of Rhun the Giant [or of Tringer the Warlike son of Nudd the Famous/Notable]: when this was put in a plough, it ploughed until it was asked to stop.

The coulter was a technical innovation introduced to Britain by the Romans. Its function was to make a vertical cut in advance of the plough-share, which then undercut the furrow made by the coulter. This made it easier to cultivate heavy soils. Roman coulters were therefore stout knife-like iron blades with a heavy shaft by which they were secured to the plough's wooden beam.

A coulter or a similar iron object symbolizing a coulter may be used during the opening of any fertility ritual, whether the ritual has to do with human fertility, that of a garden, field, orchard or greenhouse, or of a druidic circle in general. And fertility rituals need not be restricted to the biological sphere. Those seeking a fertile imagination, a fertile mind or a fertile heart may also avail themselves of the coulter of Tringer. It is likely that Tringer, which means ‘warlike’, was originally the name of the coulter itself, which being made a iron and resembling a knife, could be poetically invested with warlike qualities. If so, then the ‘Tringer coulter’ was probably part of the plough of the plough god Amaethon, brother of Nudd.

The Mantle of Tegau Gold-breast, wife of Caradog Stout-arm: it would serve suitably for Tegau and it would come for her down to the ground, but for Gwenhwyvar it would not come down to her buttocks, nor for one who broke her marriage nor for a maiden whose virginity was broken.

As presented to us, this treasure is obviously an object meant to test one’s faithfulness as a spouse, or one’s chastity. We have seen above that Gwenhwyvar is the Welsh version of the Irish goddess Findabair. Her supposed illicit affair with Lancelot is a medieval Christian misunderstanding or besmirching of the union of a Sovereignty Goddess with the god Lugh. Tegau would appear to derive from Welsh teg, ‘beautiful’, and was a British version of such Roman goddesses as Pudicitia, Diana and Venus Verticordia, all of whom concerned themselves with sexual modesty, fidelity and chasteness.

So how does the mantle of Tegau fit into druidic practice? A woman – or man – who wishes to publicly declare Tegau as her or his divine patron within the confines of the realm of human sexuality may don the mantle during group meetings and ritual performances. Donning the mantle must represent a genuine commitment. By wearing the mantle, an individual not only makes known his or her own intention, but because of the power manifested by such a proclamation of a sacred vow, he or she contributes additional energy to any magical endeavor undertaken. The mantle should not be worn during fertility rites, but only during those times when a decrease in the promotion of sexual energy is required for group events.