Every day, for many months, through the hours of daylight, she stood in public disgrace in front of the castle of Narberth, at the stone block, on which riders on horses dismounted from the saddle. When anyone got off at the gate, she had to carry him or her on her back into the hall.
As the boy grew up, his foster father scanned his features closely, and it was not long before he made up his mind that Powell was his father and Rhiannon was his mother.
One day, with the boy riding on his colt, and with two knights keeping him company, the owner of the Co-ed mare came near the castle of Narberth.
There they saw the beautiful Rhiannon sitting on the horse block at the gate.
When they were about to dismount from their horses, the lovely woman spoke to them thus:
"Chieftains, go no further thus. I will carry everyone of you on my back, into the palace."
Seeing their looks of astonishment, she explained:
"This is my penance for the charge brought against me of slaying my son and devouring him."
One and all the four refused to be carried and went into the castle on their own feet. There Powell, the prince, welcomed them and made a feast in their honor. It being night, Rhiannon sat beside him.
After dinner when the time for story telling had come, the chief guest told the tale of his mare and the colt, and how he cut the clawed hand, and then found the boy on the doorstep.