Manawyddan was now left alone with Kicva, Pryderi’s wife. He calmed her fears, and assured her of his protection. But they had lost their dogs, and could not hunt any more, so they set out together to Lloegyr, to practise again Manawyddan’s old trade of cordwainer. A second time, the envious cordwainers conspired to kill them, so they were obliged to return to Dyfed.
But Manawyddan took back a burden of wheat with him to Narberth, and sowed three crofts, all of which sprang up abundantly.
When harvest time came, he went to look at his first croft, and found it ripe. “I will reap this to-morrow,” he said. But in the morning he found nothing but the bare straw. Every ear had been taken away.
So he went to the next croft, which was also ripe. But, when he came to cut it, he found it had been stripped like the first. Then he knew that whoever had wasted Dyfed, and carried off Rhiannon and Pryderi, was also at work upon his wheat.
The third croft was also ripe, and over this one he determined to keep watch. In the evening he armed himself and waited. At midnight he heard a great tumult, and, looking out, saw a host of mice coming. Each mouse bit off an ear of wheat and ran off with it. He rushed among them, but could only catch one, which was more sluggish than the rest. This one he put into his glove, and took it back, and showed it to Kicva.
“To-morrow I will hang it,” he said. “It is not a fit thing for a man of your dignity to hang a mouse,” she replied. “Nevertheless will I do so,” said he. “Do so then,” said Kicva.
The next morning, Manawyddan went to the magic mound, and set up two forks on it, to make a gallows. He had just finished, when a man dressed like a poor scholar came towards him, and greeted him.
“What are you doing, Lord?” he said.
“I am going to hang a thief,” replied Manawyddan.
“What sort of a thief? I see an animal like a mouse in your hand, but a man of rank like yours should not touch so mean a creature. Let it go free.”