morning, Manawydan climbed the magic hill and built a tiny gallows atop it. Kigva refused to participate, so he had to do it all by himself. While he worked, an itinerant priest wandered up.

“Hello!”

“Hello yourself, father,” Manawydan replied. It was seven years since Manawydan had seen man or beast, save for the four who were together until two of them vanished, the Mabinogion reminds us. Which doesn’t make much sense, even setting aside the dogs and the mice (which were, after all, beasts): in that time Manawydan’d had no fewer than four different successful careers as an artisan. Presumably that required interacting with people. “Despite the illogic of it, you’re the first person or animal I’ve seen in seven years! Where are you from? Where are you going?”

The priest looked all shifty for a moment. “I’m from… someplace else… and I’m headed back there,” he said finally. “What are you doing, up here on this mountain? Are you holding a severed hand? Or is that a mouse inside a glove?”

“Mouse in a glove!” Manawydan said proudly. “I’m gonna hang a thief!”

“Hang a thief? You need a mouse for that?”

“The mouse is the thief!”

“What?”

“The mouse stole some of my grain…”

“Are you five years old? That’s super petty. It’s a mouse.”

“It’s a thief!”

“Just let it go.”

“No!”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“I don’t care! I’m going to hang it from its tiny neck! Stupid fat mouse!”

The priest rubbed his temples. “Okay. Hold on.” He checked his pockets. “Oh look, I happen to have that pound of silver I owe you,” he said theatrically, revealing the silver. “Here, take this back, and in the meantime why don’t you do me a favor, because I’m a priest and I love all God’s creatures, and spare that mouse?”

“You can’t bribe me!” Manawydan was aghast. “I’m totally going to hang this mouse!”

The priest checked his pockets again. “Three pounds? That’s all I have on me.”

“Not for any price!”

“Have it your way, then,” grumbled the priest, and left.