And it came to pass, in a time long past, that a great fire was sent down upon the Island of the Mighty, and the land of the greater part of her, that known as Anglia, was blasted and laid waste by that fire. But the quiet land of Cymru was left in the greatest part untouched by the flames. Likewise is it said of the Highlands of Scotia in the North, but in the long years since The Burning none have yet dared attempt the passage across the ruin of Anglia, or the dark waters of the coasts, and returned to tell of it.
In the years immediately following The Burning, the land of Cymru was in turmoil, as the powers which had driven all that the people used and relied upon failed. Lightning flashed no more along the roads men had built for it, and in but a short time the last of the burning water was spent, and men turned back to the earth to give them both food and fuel. It was a hard time, in which many died, but little by little those who survived learned anew how to bring forth fruit from the land, and to break the stones which concealed the black coal and the red ore.
In this time of hardship many leaders rose from the people, but the greatest of them was Pwyll the son of Dafydd the Horsemaster and Myfanwy Fair and Mighty. And when it came to pass that beasts of dark form and darker will poured forth from the Ruin of Anglia, it was Pwyll son of Dafydd and those who fought with him who drove them back with great losses. In his youth he was known as Pwyll the Bold, for his valour against the beasts.
It was Pwyll also who caused the great wall that is called Pwyll’s Dyke to be raised between Cymru and the Ruin of Anglia, and he who set a watch upon the Dyke against the return of the fell beasts of Anglia and in his middle age he was called Pwyll the Watchful.
When Pwyll had defeated the fell beasts of Anglia, he turned his eye inwards, and set about travelling, and so coming to know the other leaders who had risen in Cymru at that time. With force of arms he set out to overthrow these lords and make himself the sole ruler of Cymru, and in this ambition he was sorely disappointed. But after he had raised the great Dyke and set the watch upon it, Pwyll turned his eye inwards once more, and with greater wisdom than before he spoke words to the lords, and so convinced them to band together under his rule.
Thus did Pwyll make of himself the first High King of Cymru. Under him the country was divided into the twenty-six cantrevs. And under his guidance the folk of the hill cantrevs raised their flocks, while those of the valley cantrevs raised their crops and herds. And the folk of the hills brought wool from their flocks, and lamb and mutton, and this they gave to the folk of the vales. And the folk of the vales brought milk and beef, and good grain for bread and for beer, and this they gave to the folk of the hills. Thus Pwyll ordered it, and so in his old age he was known as Pwyll the Wise.
Pryderi was the son of Pwyll, and when his father died, Pryderi was named High King of Cymru after him. In his youth, while Pwyll still lived, Pryderi did deeds of great valour against the fell beasts of Anglia, and was accounted a warrior unequalled. But when he came to his throne he yearned for his father’s wisdom, and in his search for that wisdom he turned to those who kept the lore of the time before The Burning. And under the patronage of Pryderi the Three Orders set about restoring their trade.
And so under Pryderi the first Engines powered proudly through the cantrevs, and the folk of the hills gave their wool and lamb and mutton to the Engineers to bring to the valley, and the folk of the vales gave their milk and beef and grain to the Engineers to bring to the hills. And as the goods of the farmers travelled swiftly, so to did the king, overseeing all his domain with a kindly eye. And so he was known as Pryderi the Swift.
Also under Pryderi’s reign did the tales of the Bards return to the land with lessons of ancient wisdom. So too did the Druids set forth to heal the hurts of the land and its people. And thus the lot of Cymru was bettered.
When Pryderi died, he left his throne to Mathonwy, his son. But Mathonwy lacked the wisdom of his forefathers, and he was easily led by the Engineers, who sought to expand their own power. And so the Engineers placed soldiers loyal to them at the High King’s side, and on the Engines which travelled, and at the coal mines which fed the hungry fires of the Engines. And even the High King was powerless to call the Engineers to heel, for they alone commanded the secrets of the Engines, and without them the machines could not be made to move, and the swift passage of men and goods was prevented.
And so in the reign of Mathonwy the Engineers gained great power, and even greater wealth, for they began to demand for their services greater recompense than merely meat with which to feed their kin and wool with which to clothe them. And while the folk of hill and vale balked at the price which was asked, they paid it lest those who had meat should be unclad, and those who wore clothes go hungry. And caught between these two options, neither of which they cared for, the people grew unhappy, and took to naming their High King Mathonwy the Weak.
And in time Mathonwy took a wife, who was named Rhiannon the Peerless. And Rhiannon bore him a son, who was named Math son of Mathonwy. But in the bearing of Math, Rhiannon gave her life, which Mathonwy most cherished of all lives which were dear to him. But in time he was wed again, and this second wife whom he took was Arianrhod the Sly, and she was the daughter of Don, the Chief Engineer, and so Don hoped to place one of her blood upon the throne of Cymru.
In time, Arianrhod too bore Mathonwy a son, and that son Arianrhod named Gwydion. And in all things as he grew was it seen that Gwydion excelled above the efforts of Math son of Mathonwy, save that in their father’s love still did Math exceed his brother. Arianrhod, the daughter of Don, was much angered in this, and often she would scorn Math for his efforts, and bid Mathonwy give much praise to her child, Gwydion. But Gwydion was of milder temper, and bore never anything but love for his brother.
When it came that Mathonwy followed his ancestors into death, the lords of the cantrevs came to him, and bid him name Gwydion heir to his throne. But stubborn in his dying as he had rarely been in his strength, Mathonwy swore that his elder son would rule after him, and summoning the two boys he bade Gwydion swear always to uphold his brother’s right. And so willingly did Gwydion swear, who loved his brother well. And so when Mathonwy passed away, his sons stood as one, and Math took the throne of the High King with Gwydion as his War Leader.
From the moment that his half-brother was born, there was no greater friend or ally in Cymru to Math son of Mathonwy than Gwydion, and no foe more fell to him than Arianrhod the daughter of Don. Through his youth, Gwydion’s mother sought to poison him against his brother, but to no avail. In all things Gwydion outshone his brother, but always he went behind Math, allowing to the elder son of Mathonwy the glory which was his birthright. And seeing this the people named him the Great-Hearted, but Arianrhod grew angry, and when her mother Don died without ever having seen her grandson seated upon the throne of the High King she turned her back on Gwydion.
In their youth, years before their father’s death, Math and Gwydion had both loved the maiden Goewin. Both Math son of Mathonwy and Gwydion the Great-Hearted were accounted among the most comely of youths, but as in all else save their father’s love Gwydion outshone his brother. Seeing the love his brother bore for Goewin however, Gwydion resolved that he should pay her no court himself, unless perchance the maiden should decline Math’s suit in Gwydion’s absence. This the maiden by no means did, and Math and Goewin were wed at the height of summer with great joy. Great was their love for each other, but it was many years before they were blessed with a child, a bright-eyed boy named Urien.
Gwydion bore the loss of Goewin with a glad face, being unwilling to mar the happiness of the couple, and he drew great comfort from their joy. In time, he grew content with his lot, and not long after that – and still some years before the birth of Urien – he took to himself a bride most fair, a valiant shield maiden whose name was Essylt. But a short time after, Essylt bore Gwydion a son, whom he named Donn, hoping in vain to achieve a reconciliation with his mother by giving the child his grand-mother’s name. Two years later, a daughter was born to Gwydion and Essylt, and she was named Deirdre, and was but seven weeks younger than Urien son of Math.
A year after Math took his father’s throne, the fell beasts of Anglia rose again against Cymru. Gwydion at once departed for the wall built long years past by Pwyll, and for four long years he fought against the Beasts until at long last he drove them back. His wife, Essylt, fought at his side, for she was a warrior born, as much as he, and their deeds in that dark time are legendary. In that time Donn and Deirdre, growing fast towards adulthood, were given into the care of the household of Math son of Mathonwy.
Deirdre spent much time in the company of her cousin, Urien, in that time, under the watchful eye of Goewin the Fair. But Donn, the eldest child, was ever to be found in the company of his grandmother, Arianrhod the Sly, and she taught him much of the secrets of the Engineers, which her mother had taught to her. But more did she tell him of the pleas of the nobles to Mathonwy on his deathbed, of their wish that Gwydion should be their lord, and of the birthright which should thus have come to Donn but for the faintness of Gwydion’s supposedly Great Heart.
Now Donn was as fair as any in the House of Dafydd, but his heart was dark with ambition. And Arianrhod fed that ambition until Donn grew certain in his heart that the throne of Math was his by right. At Arianrhod’s urging he hid his thoughts however, and to the eyes of the world he was as loyal to his uncle Math as was his father. As he grew to manhood he gained much renown as a warrior, and a leader of men. He was tall and proud, with a voice which carried great power, and when he commanded men would obey.
Now it so happened that Gwydion the Great-Hearted, father of Donn, had taken to the wearing of a coat of blue cloth woven for him by the Queen Goewin, and so the people called him the Blue Prince. And in like kind the Queen wove for her son Urien a coat of red, that he was known as the Red Prince, and for Donn a coat of black, and he was called the Black Prince. And after four years of war against the Fell Beasts of Anglia the Black Prince was grown into a tall, strong man, and he came to fight at the side of his gallant parents.
The men who guarded the Dyke had come to know well the might of their Blue Prince and his warrior bride, yet even at their side the valour of the Black Prince could little be questioned. Within a year of the coming of the Black Prince, the Beasts had fallen back into the ruin of Anglia, and they came forth no more. So great a show of himself did Donn son of Gwydion give that by the command of King Math himself, the Black Prince was given the command of the Dyke when Gwydion and Essylt were recalled to the King’s side.
In time the Red Prince Urien grew also to manhood, and the Princess Deirdre soon after became a woman. And Deirdre was held to be most fair, yet of a temper ungentle even for the daughter of a warrior-woman such as Essylt. She had her mother’s valour, as well as her beauty, but unlike Essylt would bear no man’s touch, and gave kind words to none save her father and her brother, and to her cousin Urien. But Urien was of a different temper, both fair of form and open of bearing. In short time he found a wife, a maiden named Olwen who bore him a son, whose name was Owain.
Now Olwen was considered a maiden most fair, and she was besides the daughter of the great lord Owen the Wily, and so was seen to be a great prize, even for a king. And Urien was not the only man to pursue the hand of Olwen, nor indeed the only prince. For Donn son of Gwydion also sought the hand of Olwen, but while she had never a harsh word for him, nor for any, nor had she eyes for ought but Urien. And as Gwydion had lost Goewin to Math, so Donn lost Olwen to Urien, but unlike his father Donn did so not with a good heart but with bitterness and rage.
For three generations the High Kings of Cymru had died at peace and abed, after long lives. Such was not to be the lot of Math son of Mathonwy, nor of Urien son of Math. While hunting with his half-brother Gwydion in the forests of Cymru, Math was thrown from his horse and cast down a cliff. His fall broke his life, and he entered his hall no more a living man. Urien was named High King after his father, but no time was left to him for mourning.
His grandmother having long husbanded a bitter anger towards his family, Donn came in semblance of grief to the stronghold of the High Kings at Caer Rigor. As a kinsman in mourning he entered, but in treachery and madness he struck down his cousin Urien son of Math as he gave him greeting. Queen Olwen, having come at her husband’s side to greet the Black Prince, was swiftly taken by his followers, and bound tightly. With great fury, Donn flung himself upon the warriors and servants of Caer Rigor, and warriors whom he had led from the Dyke rose with him as he strove to reach the room in which the infant king Owain lay abed.
Before the chamber of Owain, Gwydion the Great-Hearted met his son with a naked sword. Great was the strength of the Blue Prince, but he whom no man had defeated was at the last overthrown by his own son, and from his father’s dead hand Donn seized the sword Caledfwlch Steel-Cutter, most ancient blade of the House of Dafydd. With one blow from Caledfwlch, Donn burst asunder the doors of the infant High King’s chamber, and the babe’s nurses fled from the shadow of wrath on the face of the Black Prince.
Behind the door which her husband had guarded, Essylt the Valiant awaited her son, and even he, so twisted with wrath as he was, hesitated to strike a blow against his mother. Even then might the madness of Donn have been halted, but that his warriors loosed arrows at the mighty Princess, and for all her valour, Essylt fell dead of a wound to her heart, that had been sundered already by the bloody treachery of her child. The blade of Donn was not merciful upon those who had struck down his mother, and it was with their blood staining bright Caledfwlch that he advanced and overturned the golden crib of Owain, to find the child gone.
His men searched long and hard, but no trace could be found of the child Owain, nor of Deirdre, daughter of the Blue Prince. Enraged, Donn drove the surviving servants from the gates of Caer Rigor, and ordered a fire to be set in its halls. From the plain before the stronghold he watched – with Queen Olwen bound before him on his saddle – as the fire took hold. And in the highest window of the tallest tower of Caer Rigor, the warriors of the Black Prince saw the face of Queen Goewin the Fair.
Wounded beyond grieving at the death of her husband and son, she stood and watched her nephew’s host as the flames took her, and never a cry did she utter.
Deirdre daughter of Gwydion had as heart as great as her father’s, and all the courage of her mother, Essylt the Valiant. When she fled from the slaughter at Caer Rigor she did so not from fear but from duty, for she carried before her the High King of Cymru, Owain son of Urien, wrapped in the red coat of Urien, woven by Queen Goewin the Fair. To allow her to bear the king safely from Caer Rigor, her parents had laid down their own lives, and so Deirdre rode with the knowledge that if she were overtaken their deaths would have been for naught.
Hard she rode for a day and a night, before at last she paused to allow her worthy steed rest and food and water. She took shelter at a farm, far from Caer Rigor, where her face was unknown but her gold was welcome. A few hours only she rested, then rode on. She rode for the lands of Owen the Wily, grandfather of the infant King, and hoped to find shelter for herself and her charge at his stronghold of Caer Pedruven in the mountains of Snowdonia.
But when she came to Caer Pedruven, Deirdre found the gate cast down and the doors to the hall broken. Then she was surrounded by foes, and though she gave good account of herself she was taken captive. For Donn, a man as cunning as Owen the Wily, had known that Owen would never bow to the one who had slain his son, and despatched a great force of his soldiers, travelling by Engine, to destroy him before ever the deed was done, let alone word come to Caer Pedruven. And it was a lieutenant of Donn, named Colwyn, who sat upon the bloodied throne of Owen when Deirdre was brought before it.
By Donn’s own order Deirdre was spared, and indeed once her identity was known Colwyn swiftly ordered all those who had struck the maiden slain to appease his lord’s anger. But she was not set free, and Colwyn made at once to destroy the child King Owain, heedless of Deirdre’s screams and curses. The young King would surely have died then, had not Colwyn been careless in the execution of his mission. Although his orders had been to slay Owen and with him his four sons and three daughters, he had made no count of the dead, and so knew not that the youngest son of Owen yet lived, and with a small band of companions he returned to Caer Pedruven, even as Colwyn made to strike the High King.
The attack of the last son of Owen, Dai of the Crooked Sword, was sudden and savage. Entering the stronghold by secret ways unknown to the conquerors, the struck without warning. Deirdre was cut free of her captors and bonds, and the High King placed in her hands. Then as swiftly as they had come, the followers of the Crooked Sword departed, bearing the child King and leaving many of Colwyn’s troop dead. Colwyn himself was left scarred, his once-fair face marred by a long and savage cut from Dai’s curved blade.
When nothing remained of Caer Rigor but blackened stones, Donn the Kinslayer sent warriors west, in pursuit of Deirdre and Owain, while he himself turned south, bearing Olwen, the sword Caledfwlch and the crown of the High King to the Engineers’ fastness of Caer Goludd. One thing other was taken from the stronghold of the House of Dafydd, and that was the blue coat of Gwydion son of Mathonwy, woven for him by Goewin the Fair. This Donn gave to the man whom he named as his War Leader, Llanellwyn the Fell-Handed, having failed to claim for himself the red coat of Urien.
Coming to the Caer Goludd, the Kinslayer announced himself Donn, High King of Cymru, and asked that his grandmother come down to greet him. But the Engineers told him that Arianrhod daughter of Don had that night perished, her hungry heart having failed her before she could see her grandson risen at last to the throne of the High King. Donn wept at his grandmother’s side, and was seized by a black melancholy at the thought of the darkness he had wrought.
Donn became consumed by the need to secure his stolen rule, and thus, before the sun had risen he demanded that the Chief Engineer Welwyn place the Crown of Cymru upon his brow. Acceding to the Black Prince’s wishes, Welwyn bid him kneel, and set the golden band upon the young man’s head. With a great crack, the crown split in two, and the sundered halves fell to the ground. Enraged and beyond reason, Donn called Welwyn a traitor, with swift action drew Caledfwlch and struck the Chief Engineer down.
The Engineers were filled with dread and anger, and would have set upon Donn and his followers had not Modron, daughter of Welwyn – who was accounted the most crafty of all the Engineers, and as beautiful as she was clever – counselled all with soft words to be calm. Modron bade Donn take his rest in safety at Caer Goludd, and she swore that she herself would reforge the Crown of Cymru and set it upon his brow. The Engineers she bid choose a new Chief Engineer, and accept her father’s death as a tragic loss, but to treat it as a debt that they might call upon Donn to repay at length, and not give way to a sudden vengeance that might leave Cymru kingless, and plunge the land deep into civil war.
From their number the Engineers unanimously chose Modron to be their new Chief, but she declined. The gift of foresight was hers, and she saw for herself a different destiny. Thus she bid her folk choose again, and so they chose Magg, who was grandson of Eneyd the brother of Arianrhod, and so great-grandson of Don. And Magg was raised as Chief Engineer, and yet bowed before Donn and hailed him his lord, and lord over all Engineers. And long Modron laboured in the forges of Caer Goludd over the forging of the Crown to rest on the head of Donn.
Meantime, Donn had the Engineers summon a druid to be witness to his marriage to Olwen, his slain cousin’s Queen, whom he had long desired. In this match Olwen was by no means a willing party, and only by force was she brought before the druid. Seeing this, the druid declined to perform the rites of marriage, but at threat of his life Olwen bid him relent, and swore to wed the Black Prince if it might prevent further bloodshed. And so she swore her oaths to Donn, and the druid was sent on his way only after Olwen had sworn by the most binding of oaths to obey her new husband always, never to speak the names of the dead, nor to seek to take her own life by steel, fire or stone, nor to drown herself in water, to take poison or to cast herself upon the hard earth to die.
But once the druid had passed from view Olwen went silently from her chamber, and she cast herself into the foul and poisonous weir which ran out from the forges of Caer Goludd. Yet she did not drown, which would have broken her oath, but let the water carry her to the rocks at the base of the weir, and the water it was that broke her life against the stone. So died Olwen, daughter of Owen; faithful unto death and true to her oath.
Once more Donn was filled with a dark, destructive passion, but once more the wise words of Modron calmed him. As he raged in the halls of Caer Goludd she came to him, bearing his Crown, and it was more exquisite by far than that which had been passed down from the time of Pwyll son of Dafydd. Bidding him kneel, Modron placed the crown on Donn’s brow, and she spoke words of kindness and counsel to ease his heart and guide him from the path of bloodshed.
Then Donn the Kinslayer bid the Engineers muster their labourer, and make for him a new stronghold, mightier than either Caer Rigor or Caer Goludd. And when this mighty keep was raised he named it Caer Caled, the Steel Keep. Within it he had a new throne raised, carved of stone and mightier than the old throne of Pwyll at Caer Rigor. By the side of that throne he placed with his own hands a second throne, this carved of wood, yet as mighty itself as that of Pwyll. And upon that seat he placed his High Queen, who was Modron the Crafty.
This much at least is history, but more is told of the doings of Deirdre Daughter of Gwydion and her comrades, the last protectors of the infant Owain. These tales however are unconfirmed rumours, folk tales and hearsay. Nevertheless, those in which there can be detected some touch of truth tell the tale which follows.
As Donn commanded his fortress be raised, Deirdre daughter of Gwydion and Dai of the Crooked Sword sought refuge in the mountains. The warriors of Caer Pedruven were hardy, and Deirdre hardly less so, but they feared for the infant High King when the chill of winter came upon the land. No better could they find than the workings of an old mine, cramped but sheltered, and here they rested a while.
As the warriors of Caer Pedruven struggled to make the cave ready for winter, gathering stocks of wood and scavenging supplies from the scattered crofts of the area, Deirdre daughter of Gwydion went often alone and far from the mine. Dai of the Crooked Sword feared for the health of her body, and more for the health of her heart and mind, so heavy with grief. She spoke little to any, and although she had ever been wont to stand her distance from others, and especially men, she grew now even more isolated, until Dai’s warriors dubbed her Deirdre the Silent.
Her malady troubled Dai greatly, for since the moment he had first beheld her, even bloodied and enraged as she had been, he had loved her. But Deirdre would open her heart to none, not even Dai, whose courage and goodness had touched that heart where no other man had. And so she wandered alone in the mountains, and Dai followed her at a distance, to keep her safe from harm, leaving his warriors to protect the young King. And so it was that in the depths of the hills, Deirdre found the dragon.
It was a small creature, from its snout to the tip of its slender tail no longer than the span of Deirdre’s arms, who was by no means a tall woman. Its wings spanned slightly less than its length, but one of them was plainly broken, and it could not fly. Helpless it lay, with crows circling above it, waiting for death to claim it and leave them the flesh. When she tried to lift the dragon its squealed in pain, but at the sound Dai came close and saw it, and crouching at Deirdre’s side he carefully bound and splinted its wing as he would have an injured hawk.
Deirdre and Dai bore the injured beast back to the cave, where they let it warm itself at the fire and recover its strength. On several nights it curled up beside the infant King, and although at first Deirdre was alarmed by this it did him no harm and seemed rather to be fond of the child. Steadily the dragon’s strength returned, until at last one day in the late autumn it took flight.
Rather than leave however, the dragon flew back and forth before the cave, until at last Deirdre ventured out to follow it. With Deirdre following the dragon and Dai following Deirdre, they walked further than they had ever gone before. As night fell, the dragon flew wildly back and forth before a great crest of stone, and as the two warriors watched, the setting sun fell upon the crest and glittered on the black walls of a mighty keep which stood upon it, and which before had been invisible to their eyes.
Awestruck, Deirdre walked forward and entered the keep, and Dai followed. Within they found the keep far larger than Caer Pedruven, and even than Caer Rigor. Its storerooms were full yet not a soul could they find within, save two. In the centre of the second courtyard was a rickety shed, by the side of which stood an old donkey, grazing peacefully. She looked up as the princess and the prince approached, but showed no sign of being impressed.
The two warriors on the other hand were most impressed by the sight of this beast, apparently the sole occupant of this great fortress. Yet their curiosity was further piqued when they saw parallel rails of steel connecting the shed to a door cut into the rear all of the courtyard. Within the shed, they found – to their great surprise – an Engine. It was covered in dust and cobwebs, but it seemed to stand in excellent condition, and when Dai laid a hand upon the boiler he jumped back in astonishment, for it was hot.
Mystified, the two agreed to postpone further investigation until they could bring their people to this place the next day, as clearly the dragon had purposed. They rested that night in the mysterious keep, and for the first time Dai dared speak of his love for Deirdre. Still Deirdre seemed unable or unwilling to give voice to her own feelings, but without speech she answered him in kind. When dawn rose, they greeted it as lovers, then returned swiftly to the caves and led their few followers back to the shelter of Caer Siddi.
At sunset two days hence, the followers of Dai of the Crooked Sword and Deirdre the Silent – the last loyal followers of Owain, High King of Cymru – entered the fortress of Caer Siddi. And there they rested, and took their ease for the first time in many months. The stronghold was well-supplied, although never a man, woman or child returned to lay any claim to it. The dragon was seen frequently, flitting about the towers of the stronghold, and it soon became clear that there were many of the tiny creatures.
It was Cadelyn of the White Brow, once Bard of the Court to Owen the Wily, who discovered the records which spoke of the people of Caer Siddi. And so it was Cadelyn who learned that the Engine which stood in its shed was a Dragon-Engine, whose fire – having warmed a dragon’s egg to its hatching – could never now go out, however low it might burn, and which might pass unseen by hostile eyes as it travelled the countryside. It was Cadelyn also who learned of the miraculous powers of the donkey, who – although she bore the simple name of Bluebell – was gifted with knowledge of the past, present and future, and could give sage council and fair warning, if only a way could be found to glean that knowledge from her.
...Cymru came under the rule of Donn, who sat troubled upon his throne, and made no effort to renounce the name Kinslayer. Under the guiding hand of Modron the Crafty, the Kingdom and the Order of Engineers grow strong, but Donn's wrath is as unpredictable as it is feared, and there are ever rumblings of discontent. In the mountains, the Loyal Outlaws raise the banner of the Dragon in the name of Owain, stealing across the land in their Dragon-Engine and striking at Donn's supporters. Beyond Cymru's borders, the Beasts of Anglia grow restive, and King Matholwch of Erin makes sounds of war between his battles at home.
For now, Cymru is a land at peace. But surely that peace can not last.
Llewellyn, Pencerdd (Chief Bard) of Cymru