The Story of Gelert, the Faithful Hound
Beddgelert is a pretty village in north Wales, surrounded by the mountains of Snowdonia, at a place where two rivers meet. Standing in that valley it is easy to imagine the wolves that used to live in the nearby forests.
Long ago, all kinds of wild animals lived in the Welsh countryside, most of which don’t live there any more – wolves, stags, wild boar, even bears. Hunting these animals was a favourite sport of Prince Llywelyn the Great. He had a hunting lodge in the area. When he wasn’t busy fighting the Normans or trying to keep order in his land he liked nothing better than to stay at the lodge and go hunting with his knights and his hounds.
One winter, Llywelyn was in high spirits, for life had been kind to him – he and the princess had had a baby son, their first child. Llywelyn decided to take his little family to the hunting lodge where his wife could recuperate – and it would be a good excuse to do some hunting!
After reaching the hunting lodge a fire was lit in the great hall and Llywelyn ordered the hounds to be sent in. In they bounded, huge, tall dogs with long, hairy coats. They were very fast and very strong. Nowadays we know the breed as the ‘deerhound’. Some of the dogs sat at the fire, some ran and played, but one dog went straight to lie at the Llywelyn’s feet. The hound’s name was Gelert, and he was the prince’s favourite – they were the very best of friends. Gelert was the most faithful dog in the world.
Early the next morning the prince was late saddling his horse ready for the hunt. The princess wasn’t well and it was clear that she was going to need to stay in bed for the day and rest quietly. She fed the child, then settled down. Prince Llywelyn gently took the baby and placed him in a cradle in the great hall, where it was warm from the fire. He said to the maid, “You will be busy caring for the princess. I know someone else who can keep an eye on the baby. Gelert! Lie down, good dog! Your job today is to stay here and guard the baby in his cradle.”
The maid went off to do her duties, and Gelert lay down by the cradle, resting his head on his paws, his faithful brown eyes watching his master as he left. Gelert heard the sound of the hunting horn and the clatter of hooves as Prince Llywelyn and his courtiers rode off for the hunt. He heard the bark of the hounds disappearing into the distance, but he lay down patiently next to the cradle and didn’t move a muscle.
Before long a strange smell made him sit upright. There was a noise coming from the outside door. There was a movement behind the curtain in front of it, and suddenly Gelert saw two rows of sharp white teeth, a huge red mouth, two cruel yellow eyes and a long body covered in grey and black fur hurtling towards him with a snarl. It was a wolf! And it wanted the baby for its dinner! The wolf ran towards the cradle.
Gelert didn’t wait. He leapt high into the air and landed on the wolf’s back, sinking his teeth into its side. He flung the wolf away, knocking over the cradle as he did. The baby fell out in a tangle of bedclothes underneath the upturned cradle, but he didn’t wake up. The wolf came again for the baby.
It was now a fight to the death between Gelert and the wolf. Although the hunger of the long winter months had weakened it, the wolf was bigger and heavier than Gelert, and his fangs were sharper. The wolf sank its teeth into Gelert’s paw. Howling with pain, Gelert twisted and managed to grip the wolf’s ear. They rolled over and over, blood and fur scattering as they did. At last, Gelert bit deeper and deeper and, with his last bit of strength, dug his teeth into the wolf’s neck. The wolf was fatally wounded, and dragged itself into a corner of the room behind a chair where it breathed its last breath and lay dead in a bloodstained heap.
Gelert lay down once more next to the cradle. He could hear the baby breathing quietly beneath the cradle. He was still asleep. Gelert settled down to lick his wounds.
Before very long, Gelert heard the shouts of the huntsmen as they returned to the lodge. Moments later, he heard the footsteps of his master Prince Llywelyn approaching. Painfully, he stood to greet him.
Llywelyn opened the door wide and gazed in horror. For a moment he stared about him in a panic. He saw the upturned cradle and the bloodstained bedclothes. He saw Gelert standing beside it with blood on his jaws and on his paws. There was blood and fur everywhere. What had happened to the little prince, who had brought him such joy? Llywelyn saw a dreadful image in his mind – of Gelert killing the baby out of jealousy. He drew his sword and with one movement stabbed Gelert through the heart.
With a last look of sorrow and pain in his eyes, the dog fell and died at his master’s feet. And then, from under the cradle, came the sound of a baby crying.
Llywelyn ran to the cradle and lifted it gently. He picked up his baby son who, recognising his father, smiled back at him.
How could he be smiling? How, when there was so much blood?
Llywelyn examined the baby more closely. There wasn’t a drop of blood or a single bite mark on him. What on earth had happened?
With his baby son in his arms, Llywelyn walked back towards the door through which he’d come. In the low winter sunlight he noticed the trail of blood that led to the farthest corner of the room. As soon as he saw the broken body of the wolf Llywelyn realised what had happened, and what he had done by acting in haste and without knowing all the facts.
“Brave Gelert!” he wept, “ How could I ever have doubted you? You were willing to risk your life for the sake of my son – and this is how I repaid you! How can I ever forgive myself?”
Sorrowfully, Llywelyn buried the body of his favourite dog at the foot of a tree on the banks of the River Glaslyn, in the shadow of the mountains where they had hunted together so happily. A large stone was carried from the river and placed on the dog’s grave, with an inscription so that his memory would live on. Llywelyn named the spot ‘Beddgelert’ – ‘the grave of Gelert’.
And today we too can walk along the banks of that river in Beddgelert and visit the grave that tells the story of Gelert, Prince Llywelyn’s faithful hound.
Beddgelert is a pretty village in north Wales, surrounded by the mountains of Snowdonia, at a place where two rivers meet. Standing in that valley it is easy to imagine the wolves that used to live in the nearby forests.
Long ago, all kinds of wild animals lived in the Welsh countryside, most of which don’t live there any more – wolves, stags, wild boar, even bears. Hunting these animals was a favourite sport of Prince Llywelyn the Great. He had a hunting lodge in the area. When he wasn’t busy fighting the Normans or trying to keep order in his land he liked nothing better than to stay at the lodge and go hunting with his knights and his hounds.
One winter, Llywelyn was in high spirits, for life had been kind to him – he and the princess had had a baby son, their first child. Llywelyn decided to take his little family to the hunting lodge where his wife could recuperate – and it would be a good excuse to do some hunting!
After reaching the hunting lodge a fire was lit in the great hall and Llywelyn ordered the hounds to be sent in. In they bounded, huge, tall dogs with long, hairy coats. They were very fast and very strong. Nowadays we know the breed as the ‘deerhound’. Some of the dogs sat at the fire, some ran and played, but one dog went straight to lie at the Llywelyn’s feet. The hound’s name was Gelert, and he was the prince’s favourite – they were the very best of friends. Gelert was the most faithful dog in the world.
Early the next morning the prince was late saddling his horse ready for the hunt. The princess wasn’t well and it was clear that she was going to need to stay in bed for the day and rest quietly. She fed the child, then settled down. Prince Llywelyn gently took the baby and placed him in a cradle in the great hall, where it was warm from the fire. He said to the maid, “You will be busy caring for the princess. I know someone else who can keep an eye on the baby. Gelert! Lie down, good dog! Your job today is to stay here and guard the baby in his cradle.”
The maid went off to do her duties, and Gelert lay down by the cradle, resting his head on his paws, his faithful brown eyes watching his master as he left. Gelert heard the sound of the hunting horn and the clatter of hooves as Prince Llywelyn and his courtiers rode off for the hunt. He heard the bark of the hounds disappearing into the distance, but he lay down patiently next to the cradle and didn’t move a muscle.
Before long a strange smell made him sit upright. There was a noise coming from the outside door. There was a movement behind the curtain in front of it, and suddenly Gelert saw two rows of sharp white teeth, a huge red mouth, two cruel yellow eyes and a long body covered in grey and black fur hurtling towards him with a snarl. It was a wolf! And it wanted the baby for its dinner! The wolf ran towards the cradle.
Gelert didn’t wait. He leapt high into the air and landed on the wolf’s back, sinking his teeth into its side. He flung the wolf away, knocking over the cradle as he did. The baby fell out in a tangle of bedclothes underneath the upturned cradle, but he didn’t wake up. The wolf came again for the baby.
It was now a fight to the death between Gelert and the wolf. Although the hunger of the long winter months had weakened it, the wolf was bigger and heavier than Gelert, and his fangs were sharper. The wolf sank its teeth into Gelert’s paw. Howling with pain, Gelert twisted and managed to grip the wolf’s ear. They rolled over and over, blood and fur scattering as they did. At last, Gelert bit deeper and deeper and, with his last bit of strength, dug his teeth into the wolf’s neck. The wolf was fatally wounded, and dragged itself into a corner of the room behind a chair where it breathed its last breath and lay dead in a bloodstained heap.
Gelert lay down once more next to the cradle. He could hear the baby breathing quietly beneath the cradle. He was still asleep. Gelert settled down to lick his wounds.
Before very long, Gelert heard the shouts of the huntsmen as they returned to the lodge. Moments later, he heard the footsteps of his master Prince Llywelyn approaching. Painfully, he stood to greet him.
Llywelyn opened the door wide and gazed in horror. For a moment he stared about him in a panic. He saw the upturned cradle and the bloodstained bedclothes. He saw Gelert standing beside it with blood on his jaws and on his paws. There was blood and fur everywhere. What had happened to the little prince, who had brought him such joy? Llywelyn saw a dreadful image in his mind – of Gelert killing the baby out of jealousy. He drew his sword and with one movement stabbed Gelert through the heart.
With a last look of sorrow and pain in his eyes, the dog fell and died at his master’s feet. And then, from under the cradle, came the sound of a baby crying.Llywelyn ran to the cradle and lifted it gently. He picked up his baby son who, recognising his father, smiled back at him.
How could he be smiling? How, when there was so much blood?
Llywelyn examined the baby more closely. There wasn’t a drop of blood or a single bite mark on him. What on earth had happened?
With his baby son in his arms, Llywelyn walked back towards the door through which he’d come. In the low winter sunlight he noticed the trail of blood that led to the farthest corner of the room. As soon as he saw the broken body of the wolf Llywelyn realised what had happened, and what he had done by acting in haste and without knowing all the facts.
“Brave Gelert!” he wept, “ How could I ever have doubted you? You were willing to risk your life for the sake of my son – and this is how I repaid you! How can I ever forgive myself?”
Sorrowfully, Llywelyn buried the body of his favourite dog at the foot of a tree on the banks of the River Glaslyn, in the shadow of the mountains where they had hunted together so happily. A large stone was carried from the river and placed on the dog’s grave, with an inscription so that his memory would live on. Llywelyn named the spot ‘Beddgelert’ – ‘the grave of Gelert’.
And today we too can walk along the banks of that river in Beddgelert and visit the grave that tells the story of Gelert, Prince Llywelyn’s faithful hound.
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