Owain spurred his horse up the steep trail. The dapple grey tossed its head as they made the last turn, and whinnied in alarm when they broke out of the forest into a gloomy clearing.
At first the knight could see no threat, but he heeded his mount and reined to a halt. Nothing moved. The glade was empty.
Then the shadowy figure of a lion appeared from the depths of a cave. Owain ap Urien drew his sword.
The beast paced side to side, limping. Owain could see its ribs, its pelt matted with blood, its ragged ears flicking as if in fear. The lion gazed at horse and rider but not with a hunter's thirst for blood. Despair shone in that glance. Wariness. Perhaps even a plea for help.
Owain shook his head at the foolish thought. He backed his horse, for he saw the lion gathering to spring into the open.
At the same moment the beast made one bound forward, a massive shape spewed from a crevice near the cave mouth. A monstrous serpent rammed the lion, knocking it back into its prison.
The wingless dragon pulled back into its lair, vanishing from sight.
The dapple grey snorted and shimmied and shied, tensing for flight, nostrils flaring at the stench of the monster. Owain dismounted, tied the reins to a stout branch, then approached on foot, sword still drawn.
The lion, he could see from nearby, raised itself on trembling limbs, licked at a bloody flank, panted in fear. Once again those golden eyes fixed upon Owain, begging, pleading.
The knight edged up to the crevice. He raised his sword, then waited for the next rush to freedom.
The beast came to the cave entrance, gathered itself, burst forth.
Once more the great serpent struck at its prisoner, but Owain struck all the harder. He sliced right through the monster's sinuous neck.
The dragon's head rolled across the stony ground. Its neck crashed among the rocks.
Tail lashing, the gaunt lion rose from a crouch, edged up to the carcass, sniffed at its tormentor.
Owain wiped clean his sword blade. "My kill is all yours," he told the lion. "I don't fancy dragon for dinner." He strode back to his fidgeting horse, keeping an eye on the great cat until he could mount and ride away.
When twilight descended, Owain made camp further off in the forest. The knight was crouching by his fire when the undergrowth rustled. He rose, reaching for his sword hilt as the lion shouldered its way out of the brush, dragging a freshly killed deer. The beast dropped the carcass, stepped away a pace, sank to its haunches, and set to licking its wounded flank.
"Ah. Well. Thank you most kindly," Owain told the lion. "Did you eat your fill earlier, I wonder?"
The great cat yawned, displaying an imposing set of fangs, then settled to its belly, curling its tail like an enormous housecat, a contented look in the golden eyes. The lion dozed while Owain butchered the deer and roasted a haunch.
In the morning when the knight mounted and continued on his quest, like a well-trained greyhound the lion trotted at his side.
The Mabinogion was compiled in Middle Welsh in the 12th and 13th centuries.
