At length, I reached the inn, called Victoria, and satisfying my companion with a gratuity which was more profitable than fishing, I entered and ordered breakfast, and procured an admittance to the castle of Dolbadarn. This ancient fortress is supposed to have been built by one Padarn Beisrydd ap Idwal, for the purpose of guarding the mountain pass which I had just quitted. A single round tower is all that remains of the castle, although traces are left of a much more extensive building. Here Owen Goch was imprisoned twenty years by his brother Llewellyn, the last Prince of Wales of the British line; and an ode is still extant, written by Howel-Voel, wherein his captivity is affectionately lamented.
The view from the castle is truly sublime, comprising the two lakes, and the tremendous range of mountains, that seem to admit no outlet from the vale. But the most beautiful prospect is from the lake in front of the promontory on which the castle stands, and is reflected in the smooth waters beneath, while the majestic Snowdon towers in the distance.
In the twelfth century, it is said there lived a celebrated beauty, whose father was the lord of this castle, and of whom something like the following legend is related:
LEGEND OF DOLBADARN.
Margaret of Dolbadarn was one of the fairest damsels of whom Cambria ever boasted at court or tourney;—fair without vanity, highborn without ostentation, she exhibited the simplicity of nobility.
Like others of her rank, she had many knights who owned her power, and panted to put lance in rest for the peerless Margaret; but in the number there was but one whom her eye followed through the glittering throng, and whose approach made her heart beat, and the mounting blood turn the delicate pink upon her cheek to crimson; and William of Montgomery was the happy knight.
But her father had other views, and Hector of March-lyn-Mawr was proposed by him to be her husband—a youth of noble presence, but ignoble mind. His lands extended far and near, and skirted those of the Lord of Dolbadarn, who was, from that circumstance, doubly anxious to have the union consummated.
He was, however, a tender guardian; he loved his daughter, and was by her loved tenderly in return. Both knights had free access to Margaret, and both were anxious to deserve her favour. William was young, valiant, handsome, and honest; Hector was bold, gloomy, uncourtly and subtle. The Baron saw the decided preference his daughter gave to William of Montgomery, and grieved in his heart that it was not bestowed upon his more wealthy rival. He therefore resolved to put a proposal to his daughter, which was, that at the ensuing tournament to be given at his castle, the knights should prove their skill upon each other, and that he who was proclaimed the most accomplished master of his weapons, should receive her hand as the reward. For, though he was desirous of an alliance with the wealthy and powerful house of March Lyn Mawr, he was by no means insensible to the merits of Montgomery, whose name stood high in the lists of chivalry, and whose engaging manners won friends for him wherever he appeared. With a heavy heart did Margaret submit to the proposal of her father, although a feeling of confidence within her bosom told her the object of her attachment would prove the victor. Far different emotions agitated the hearts of the rivals, when they were informed of the Baron’s determination. William of Montgomery flung himself upon his knees before the old man, exclaiming with enthusiasm,
“By bath, and bed, and white chemise, [266] I will for ever be a true knight to thee for this especial favour, my good Lord of Dolbadarn! My lance and blade are yours at command, and,” turning to his rival, “Hector, if I bear thee not over thy charger’s croup, why say my heart and hand shook with fear in the encounter.—But, if thou gainest the field, I’ll give thee a grey palfrey for thy bride, to bear her to the church yonder, by thy side.”
“Agreed,” said Hector; “and noble Lord of Dolbadarn, if heaven desert me not in the hour of trial, I doubt not my success in winning thy daughter for my bride. Yet, should I fail, I promise thee, William of Montgomery, to give thee a steed, fleeter than any in thy stables, to bear the Lady Margaret as thy bride to church, nor will I bear thee any ill will shouldst thou prove conqueror, but drink a health to thee and thine, with a kind heart and true.”