BERWYN
Again the messenger summoned him, and still Collen refused to be drawn.
Then the messenger said, “If you don’t come, Collen, it will be the worse for you.”
This disconcerted him; so, taking some holy water with him, he went. On reaching the top of the tor, Collen beheld the most beautiful castle that he had ever seen, manned by the best-appointed soldiery. A great many musicians, with all manner of instruments, made glorious music. About the hill were young men riding horses; at the palace gate handsome sprightly maidens—in fact, every element becoming the retinue and appointments of a great monarch.
Collen, carrying his pot of holy water, was invited to enter; he obeyed, and was ushered into a banqueting hall where he saw the king seated in a chair of pure gold. Gwyn very graciously invited Collen to take a seat and refresh himself at the table, whereon were all kinds of dainties. Collen replied churlishly, “Bah! I don’t browse on leaves.”
“Hast thou ever seen,” said the king, “men better dressed than these my servants in red and blue?”
“The clothing—such as it is—is good enough.”
“Such as it is!” repeated the king. “What do you mean?”
“Red for fire, blue for cold,” replied Collen, and he dashed the pot of holy water in the king’s face and the liquid was splashed about on all sides. Instantly everything disappeared, and Collen was alone on the tor and the stars were shining down on him out of a frosty sky.