And the men went forward to the gate of the herdsman’s dwelling.  And when she heard their footsteps approaching, she ran out with joy to meet them.  And Kay snatched a billet out of the pile.  And when she met them, she sought to throw her arms about their necks.  And Kay placed the log between her two hands, and she squeezed it so that it became a twisted coil.  “O woman,” said Kay, “if thou hadst squeezed me thus, none could ever again have set their affections on me.  Evil love were this.”  They entered into the house and were served; and soon after, they all went forth to amuse themselves.  Then the woman opened a stone chest that was before the chimney-corner, and out of it arose a youth with yellow, curling hair.  Said Gurhyr, “It is a pity to hide this youth.  I know that it is not his own crime that is thus visited upon him.”  “This is but a remnant,” said the woman.  “Three and twenty of my sons has Yspadaden Penkawr slain, and I have no more hope of this one than of the others.”  Then said Kay, “Let him come and be a companion with me, and he shall not be slain unless I also am slain with him.”  And they ate.  And the woman asked them, “Upon what errand come you here?” “We come to seek Olwen for this youth.”  Then said the woman, “In the name of Heaven, since no one from the castle hath yet seen you, return again whence you came.”  “Heaven is our witness, that we will not return until we have seen the maiden.  Does she ever come hither, so that she may be seen?” “She comes here every Saturday to wash her head, and in the vessel where she washes she leaves all her rings, and she never either comes herself or sends any messengers to fetch them.”  “Will she come here if she is sent to?” “Heaven knows that I will not destroy my soul, nor will I betray those that trust me; unless you will pledge me your faith that you will not harm her, I will not send to her.”  “We pledge it,” said they.  So a message was sent, and she came.

The maiden was clothed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and about her neck was a collar of ruddy gold, on which were precious emeralds and rubies.  More yellow was her head than the flower of the broom, [Footnote:  The romancers dwell with great complacency on the fair hair and delicate complexion of their heroines.  This taste continued for a long time, and to render the hair light was an object of education.  Even when wigs came into fashion they were all flaxen.  Such was the color of the hair of the Gauls and of their German conquerors.  It required some centuries to reconcile their eyes to the swarthy beauties of their Spanish and Italian neighbors.] and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood-anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain.  The eye of the trained hawk was not brighter than hers.  Her bosom was more snowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheek was redder than the reddest roses.  Whoso beheld her was filled with her love.  Four white trefoils sprung up wherever she trod.  And therefore was she called Olwen.