Seligor's Castle, where there is so much fun for all of our children in the land. Trudi's Page
SELIGOR'S CASTLE THE FIRST AXE
Outside the cave the world was a blaze of white and green. From where he was sat in the shadow of the over-hanging rock Mo-ha could see a brilliant green and yellow lizard flashing out and in among the flints and stones that lay some little distance from the cave. It was midday, and the Sun burned high up in the heavens, pouring heat upon the Earth with a fierceness that drove all living things to seek shelter in the shadow of rock or tree. It was the early days of the world, when men lived in caves and trees, before speech as it is now known to us had been invented, and there were no adjectives and adverbs to worry the brains of little boys and girls. Speech at this time consisted almost entirely of nouns, names of things and people, so that when Mo-ha said "Food" he really meant "Is my dinner ready please?" so you see the people then used one word instead of many, after all that's what we do when we text today. You would probably have wondered at Mo-ha and his look, for although he was almost twelve he was the size of a nine year old, he was covered in short, fine hair, the face, hands, and inside of the arms being the only parts of his body entirely free; his eyes were smal, deeply sunk and set close together; his nose was flat and broad, with only the merest suggestion of a bridge; his ears large and slightly pointed at the top. But, so small Mo-ha was much stronger than one would think to look at his thin legs and arms. He could leap farther and run faster than most men can nowadays. He could climb and run from tree to tree through the grest forests that existed then almost as fast you or I could walk along a country road. He could hang from his toes from the branch of a tree for ages and shin up the face of a rock like a lightening flash. Behind Mo-ha, half asleep and half awake, lay Nee-na , Mo-ha's little sister, a year younger than Mo-ha himself. From time to time her eyes, which were large and very intelligent in their expression, would open and shut like a cat's, as she watched her brother. There was no change, however, in Mo-ha's attitude, and at last Nee-na raised herself from the cool earth and placed her hand upon the boy's shoulder, and though she used only one word, she was probably asking him what he was thinking?
Mo-ha made no answer, but, picking up a straight, sharp stick that lay close beside him, he flung it at the lizard, and Nee-na laughed and rubbed her hairy little toes together with delight. The Sun had fallen down the sky for some time - and it would be about four o'clock in the afternoon when Mo-ha accompanied by Nee-na, left the coolness of the cave and walked to where the stick he had thrown still remained, apparently stuck in the ground. When Mo-ha lifted the stick he was greatly surprised to see a stone, a flint sticking on the end of it. Somehow the end of the stick had opened and the stone was wedged in the top, at that moment Mo-ha hadn't realised what he had made, quite by accident but, then, that is quite how many a tool has come into being. Immediately Mo-ha picked it up and without any more ado he swung it round his head a few times and bought it down, hard on a fallen log. They both jumped as the flint hit the log and cut into it like it was a rotten.
Mo-ha was delighted with his new, hmm! axe, and carried it proudly as he and Nee-na made there way to the spring to drink some water before settling down to sleep for the night hours. They were half way to the spring, Mo-ha slightly in front when Nee-na, who sensed danger quicker than her brother stopped suddenly with a warning hiss. A heavy musk like odour met Mo-ha's nostrils seconds later and quickly he sprang to the nearest tree and climbed hastily up to the topper-most branches, he moved that fast, it seemed he was being hauled up by a hidden rope. Nee- na was at the same time reaching the upper-most branches of a mighty palm like tree, which she was closest too when sensing danger. The next moment the Striped One, old Sabre-tooth the tiger, broke through the dense, fern-like underbrush, and stood immediately below the tree in which Nee-na cowered in complete terror.It might have been the fact that the tree had very few branches on its long trunk that made it mighty awkward for the Old one to climb, or it could have been the movement Mo-ha made as he settled his-self in the top branches, whatever the tiger turned away from the tree the girl was in and walked over to the tree Mo-ha was in, axe in hand, clinging with all four limbs he waited. With one mighty spring the great beast flung itself upward to where the tree broke into two giant arms, which stretched outwards into the form of a giant Y. The tigers claws missed the fork by a few inches and he fell backwards. The claws of the huge beast scored and tore the bark of the tree until they met a slight knot in the scored trunk. Here he clung for a second or two and then the powerful hind feet, getting a firmer hold, propelled his snarling, growling body towards the fork.It was on the larger of the two branches that Mo-ha had sought safety, he had then chosen another branch that grew straight upwards from the main branch, was it a natural sense of survival these young Palaeolithic children had that by instinct they knew the safest way to climb. The smooth, rounded branch, somewhat thicker that a mans arm and growing almost at a right angle from its main limb made it impossible to climb, nor even able to hold his weight. The tiger flung his mighty head backward and fixed its cold, terrifying stare at Mo-ha. The look was so horrible that poor Mo-ha tightened his grip on the tree shivering with fear. Nee-na, high up in the next tree, spome twenty feet above the ensuing duel. She could see her brother clinging with hand and foot. Nee-na shouted words to her brother, with an urgency that said, come climb down he can't get you from there. Mo-ha had already noticed he way to escape before the Tiger, but instead of making good his eascape, he shouted down to the beast."Ha, ha!" he cried. "The Striped One comes for his meat - and there is none!"The sound of his voice roused the tiger, Ha-ha, ha-ha!" joined in Nee-na with her shrill voice, "There is no meat, she repeated. "The Striped One comes for meat, and there is none! Mo-ha laughed again, and tearing off a small branch, he flung it at the tiger's head. Doing this made the tiger even more and he swiped at the branch on which hung Mo-ha. The branch quivered and shook with the force of the blow and Mo-ha, completely taken by surprise, almost fell into the gaping jaws waiting for him just ten feet away. Again and again the tiger struck the branch, uttering loud roars all the time and reaing himself up to his full height. The branch creaked and groaned, and Mo-ha struck with terror looked wildly round for another place to hide. The only branch near enough to bear his weight was some ten to twelve feet away and although the distance was no trouble, Mo-ha knew that the strain added to his weight on hitting the branch could possibly snap and send it and him down to the ground.Carefully he lowered himself a little lower down the branch, to try to avoid the jars and swings which threatened when he hurled himself into space. But the relief was light, and Mo-ha knew that he would end up being thrown to the ground anyway if the tiger continued his present tactics. It was as though the Tiger read his mind, for he began to pound the branch harder that tore the bark away and promised disaster.Suddenly a great rage filled the heart of Mo-ha. His eyes burned red; his lips parted, showing his long canine teeth in a vicious snarl; the long hair on his neck and spine bristled with fear and anger. He seized the axe in both hands, and loosening his hold a little, slid several feet nearer to where the brute vented it's spite and hate on the branch.Astonished by the manoeuvre the tiger stopped beating the tree and stared wonderingly at the boy. Like a flash Mo-ha whirled the axe above his head, and, holding on only with his knees and feet, he brought the axe down with all the force he could muster upon the huge paw resting on the branch.The keen edge of the flint shore through the bone and muscle, cutting two of the great claws completely off, and burying the axe head a full half inch into the branch. The tiger rose in the air, mad with pain and surprise, turned completely over, and, clawing and biting furiously at everything within reach, fell down to the ground. " He is dead! The Striped One is dead"! sang Nee-na joyfully. A nd sure enough, the Sabre tooth was dead. It had fallen across a hidden stump, which had snapped its spine like a rotten carrot, and for the first time in history, a boy and an axe had proved superior to old Sabre-tooth, the Striped One, the terror of the human race.
I wonder if that could really have happened, what do you think children? Hugs Seligor. xxx
A page made by Seligor of things that maybe you won't know of, till now.
The Rich Man and the Poor Man
A rich man and a poor man sat beneath the pink and lemon blossom trees of Spring. The rich man said: "Ah the scent of these trees gives me a headache. I am not too dull a fellow that my mind does not tell me how beautiful it is. But then I begin to think of how I might buy up this land so that the trees are exclusively mine and then I might find somehow to bottle that delicious perfume and market it." "You do not need the money," said the poor man. "I would bring my ailing daughter here that she might look at the wonderful colour and smell the delicious scent, but she is very sickly and the perfume would overpower her." The rich man mopped his brow with a silk handkerchief embroidered and sewn with precious jewels. A thought struck him. He pulled out a second handkerchief, just as beautiful as the first. He offered it to the poor man. "Take this." he cried, "Put it over your daughters mouth that the heady perfume of the pink and lemon blossom be not too strong for her chest and senses!"
The poor man looked abashed and pondered thoughtfully. Finally, and not without some consternation, he spoke: "I thankyou, Sir, but alas, I cannot; I am, you see, to proud to accept such a magnifiscent gift."
In the amiable silence that followed, a brace of pale-green winged zephyrs disported in the mellow afternoon sunlight, a golden canary settled on a clump of pink blossom and a fire-bird alighted on a branch positively efflorescent with startling lemon petals, where it promptly fell asleep. The rich man called his servant, who produced a bag containing a flask of wine, a loaf of bread, and a selection of dried figs and apricots. The poor man deigned to share the welcome feast. "When I was a young merchant, and still quite slim," said the rich man, "I often thought of travelling to some far distant land, of finding a proud and beautiful princess there, and then woo her. She would have been fine boned and delicate, with lustrous chestnut hair, decorated and perfumed with pink and lemon blossom." He produced two bright red apples and offered one to the poor man. A sigh escaped his well rounded form. He simply could not stop his mind from hatching new and convoluted schemes to make a profit from those blossom-trees.
"Blossom is fine," said the poor man, "but fruit sits better on an empty stomach. My own wife was a beauty in her day, her voice as sweet as apples once, before she took to working everyday in the Linen-factory; but autumn follows summer, just as summer follows spring. Sweet apples can turn sour out of season and a sweet temper turn to tantrums. A sour apple can give a fellow a belly-ache in his head.
In his hovel, the poor man's daughter coughed into a filthy rag. Through a hole in the wall she watched the pink and lemon blossom on the trees, softly moving on the scented breeze. In the rich man's palace, his cooks were beginning to prepare his evening meal. "I must be going," said the poor man, and thanked .his companion for the afternoon repast. In his pocket he carried a half-eaten apple to give to his daughter. The rich man nodded, and summoning his servant, he made to mount his horse. "Blossom-jam," he was thinking. "The resin of the bark seems thick and pungent. Perhaps it has some medicinal properties........
Meanwhile, the fire-bird had awoken and was eyeing the chattering canary with significant disfavour. "Can't a chap get any sleep around here," he grumbled. and shook his magnificent feathers.
In the distance, the evening whistle blew at the Linen-factory and presently, a thin line of gaunt and tired women emerged into the gathering dusk.
"I must not pass over in silence the mountains called by the Welsh Eryri, but by the British Snowdon,
or the mountains of Snow, which... seem to rear their lofty summits even to the clouds"
Geraldus Cambrensis - Itinerarium Cambriae (1191)
CYMRU - WALES
Mother of holy fire! Mother of holy
dew! Thy children of the mist, the moor,
the mountainside, These change not from thine heart,
these to thine heart allied: These that rely on thee, as blossoms
on the blue. O passionate, dark faces,
meloncholy's hue! O deep, grey eyes, so tragic with the
fires they hide! Sweet Mother, in whose light these
live! thou dost abide, Star of the West, pale to the world:
these know thee true.
No alien hearts may know that magic,
which acquaints Thy soul with splendid passion, a
great fire of dreams; Thine heart with lovelier sorrow, than
the wistful sea. Voices of Celtic singers and of Celtic
Saints Live on the ancient air: their royal
sunlight gleams On moorland Merioneth and sacred
Dee.
written by L
Johnson
"Such
as have not seen mountains of this kind are not able to frame an idea
of them, from the hills of more champaign or lower countries. For
whereas such hills are but single in heights or storeys, these are
heaped upon one another, so that having climbed up one rock, we come to
a valley, and most commonly a lake; and passing by that, we ascend
another, and sometimes a third and a fourth, before we arrive at the
highest peaks."
Edward Lhuyd - History of Cambria
(1695)
The End of Maelgwn Gwynedd
Of
all the Princes that have ruled over Gwynedd, as the west half of North
Wales was called then and is still called the same today, the most
wicked was Maelgwn. Maelgwn was Prince of Gwynedd almost fourteen
centuries ago, and this is his story.
In those days there were four petty kingdoms in Wales and the four rulers wished to decide which of them should be Brenhin Pennaf,
or chief king. It was agreed that they would meet on the sands of the
Dovey Testuary, bringing their thrones with them, that the thrones
should be placed in a row fronting the incoming tide, with their royal
owners sitting on them; and that whichever of the four stayed longest
on his throne when the sea came racing in to submerge them should be
declared Brenhin Pennaf.
Now Maelgwn had a cunning councellor, Maeldaf the Elder, who was
determined that his master should triumph. "Maeldav, says the old Chronicle, "secretly prepared a throne of wings"
- and we can take it as pretty certain that these wings were made of
inflated skins that would act as water wings when the tide came in. At
any rate, the spring tide came roaring and foaming in, and the sea rose
higher and higher, until the princes of Powys and South Wales took
fright and splashed their way to the shore and safty. Maelgwn was left
to ride the waves and was declared the winner and therefore the chief
ruler of all of Wales.
It
was an age when men were accustomed to harsh treatment from their
overlords, but Maelgwn Gwynedd overstepped all bounds of cruelty, he
was very, very cruel indeed. The people of his own land cursed him for
the blackness of his deeds, but there was no one strong enough to
oppose him and it seemed as if the sufferings of his many victims would
never be avenged. He built himself a palace close to the north coast,
within a bow shot of a hill fort that had been the stronghold of his
ancestors hundreds of years earlier, and here at Llys Rhos Maelgwn lived a life of drunkenness and excess, with other evil doings too horrible to be told even on this page of Seligor
At last the gread
bard and prophet Taliesin foretold an end to the suffering of Gwynedd. This was his prophecy:
"A
wonderous beast shall come up from Morfa Rhianedd, the Sea marsh of the
Maidens, to avenge all the cruelties of Maelgwn. Its hair and its teeth
and its eyes shall be yellow, and this beast will be the end of Maelgwn
Gwynedd"...
The
Prophecy of Taliesin was fulfilled 547. For in that year the deadly
plague which some called the Yellow Death was ravaging Europe, and
spread northward into Britain. As the plague's trail of death
approached the land of Gwynedd, Maelgwn's terror of it grew until he
was almost mad with fear. He shut himself in his palace of Llys Rhos
with a few of his favourite courtiers and forbade anyone to pass in or
out and for a little time it seemed that he had escaped the plague that
was taking the lives of so many of his subjects in the world outside.
But one day hearing his name loudly called from the outer gateway,
Maelgwn looked through the keyhole of the great door. A moment later he
fell to the ground, writhing in agony; and his only words were "The Yellow
Beast!"..
.
The courtiers fled, leaving their dead prince in the palace. It was
long indeed before anyone would venture in to bring out the body of the
Brenhin Pennaf for burial; which gave rise to the Welsh saying: Hir hun y
Faelwyn yn Llys Rhos - The long sleep of Maelgwn in the palace of Rhos"...
Llys Rhos fell into ruin. But from its stones a new palace named Llys
Euryn was built, on the very spot where Maelwyn Gwynedd wrought - and - paid for his evil deeds....
Their lord they shall praise,
Their language they shall keep,
Their land they shall lose
- Except wild Wales.
..Whether it is still there I do not know, but there used to be a
signpost pointing down a wee path in Rhos on Sea that pointed the way to the Llys Euryn and Bryn Euryn..
Although Maelwyn Gwynedd (also known as Maelwyn ap Cadwallon), he was also accused of
murdering his wife and his nephew so that he could marry his nephew's widow..
He was also said to be a great patron of the arts and a skilled
lawgiver, although some attribute this reputation to Maelgwn's own
propaganda. He established court at Deganwy Castle, and surrounded
himself with an entourage of bards and artisans who wrote glowingly of
his achievements.
His son Rhun was also a famous king of Gwynedd, and some say that another son, Brude, became King of the Picts.
From the veranda of Harambee, which is the Swahili name for the home I lived in
during my stay in Kenya. Often I could stand for
minutes at a time, watching the sun setting.
The year was nineteen sixty four, with one child, a daughter, her
name Sheena. She, sleeping in the arms of my Ayah and friend Ameena, a
Somali tribes-woman, lying comfortably, wrapped in her flowing gown. The
two of us just
standing, watching the sun herself going to sleep beneath the horizon. A golden ball of orange and red that settled quietly on a thin line
of black, then shimmering and shaking like a huge round jelly not
knowing which way
to roll.
There she would sit a while, as the universe closed in beginning
with the tiny rivulets, like red tentacles would stretch from side to
side.
These followed by larger rivers of golden and lemon waves churning, tumbling, cascading over each other each trying to reach the far reaches of the horizon first.
But stop! what are those streaks of blue floating above these
rivers ofgold, should they be there in the sky, now? Do they not know
that it is the onset
of night, not the rebirth of morning? There, they have gone now,
swallowed up by the vermilion tentacles that reached out and dragged
them into its fold. Now the
sun has sunk more than half way beneath the horizon and she looks like a
massive fried egg, sunny sideup. Enough to feed the whole of the
starving masses in
this beautiful but cruel environment.
Another of Mr. Richard Wasike beautiful paintings of the Maasai Tribesmen.
To the west of us, towers the giant outline of Mount Kilimanjaro, it fills the sky. There is an eerie glow about her as the crimson rays of the sun, kiss the far side of the mountain. Suddenly the silhouettes of an Elephant
family cross the horizon, totally in step as they crossed the open
grassland.
Several groups of Maasai tribesmen passed by beneath the veranda, their
beauty hidden by the descending darkness. Tall and graceful like gazelles. And
that's the men the women are even more beautiful. I listen to their
voices and know already that I shall be sorry to leave this land.
All this has passed within the spate of 15 minutes and the
poached egg has now completely vanished from sight.
Ameena moves the
boy from one arm to
the other, "It is getting cold Mensab time for us to go inside now." Oh
gosh I shall miss her just as much. We had become such good friends. It
is
now very dark and already the other side of the equator has come alive
as she sends her halo of morning glory earthwards.
crimson rays of the sun, kiss the far side of the mountain.