"It was Fair Day in Llandovery and the streets were crowded with livestock and buyers. As he strolled into the Fair, he could already see friends and neighbours looking at livestock, whilst a striking bay colt was being run out for his friend Thomas Rees, who was looking to replace an ageing stallion of his. It flung its legs out like pistons and the lad running it up had to pull its head toward him to stop it cantering. Will knew it was certainly an eye-catcher but would it manage on the poor grazing up on the Epynt come wintertime. That was what mattered.
Nancy-stockings had her stall busy with customers, and there were the usual cottage industries of ladder making, net making, basket making selling their wares, and stalls selling haberdashery and fripperies. He noticed his neighbour's new house servant trying on hats, trying to choose between those bedecked with ribbons or feathers. He imagined, as she hadn't been at her placement long, she had asked for an advance on her salary and if she bought hats like that, there wouldn't be much left come pay day.
The usual hucksters were there, downwind of the throng of cattle, sheep and horses in the street, including a snake oil salesman who was doing a thriving trade with his bottles of never-suffer-again cure-all ointment. Where the street widened he could see a booth which was attracting a lot of attention. As he drew closer, hands in pockets, he could see a shabby looking bear and a showman whose sharp clothing and cocked hat spoke of his confidence and successful business. A large ungainly brown bear was displayed behind bars, and a sign read "Prize of ONE POUND to anyone who can spend just FIVE minutes with the bear." No-one was ready to try his luck though - if they so much as drew near, the bear would open its mouth and lick his lips with a long red tongue, as if its appetite had been whetted by the smell of potential customers . . .
Will Morgan was known for his strength. He regularly hired himself at betingo time, using a breast plough to clear the top layer of turf from fallow fields before they were ploughed. He had easily won a bet of carrying a huge branch from an oak tree which had fallen and blocked the road. He offered to carry it from the scene down to the village, and a betting book was started. He won his money easily, yet when the log was cut up and weighed, it was found to have been 10 hundredweight (half a TON).
Will Morgan KNEW his strength. He knew that the £1 was money in his pocket from the moment he read the sign. He stepped up. Knowing looks were passed by those who knew him - or knew of him - as he stepped into the ring. Not content just to stand near the animal though, he moved closer and he began to wrestle with it. A roar went up amongst the spectators, and the crowd soon thickened with those eager to see the outcome of this particular wrestling match.
The bear's fetid breath heated Will's face, as he leaned into it, getting a good grip on its pelt and manouevering it until he could grasp its tail with his right hand whilst his left arm was around its neck. He could feel the low growls in its throat and it tried to turn its head to grasp his arm but he had the advantage of a grip which prevented this. Slowly, he began to lift it off the ground. The crowd roared even louder, and the puzzled bear struggled but could not free itself. Will pulled handfuls of mangy hair from the bear as he lifted it higher, with the Showman looking very worried, and starting to gabble about stopping before he got hurt! Will laughed - he wasn't going to get hurt. On the other hand, the odds weren't looking too good for the bear.
His friends yelled, "Finish him off Will", and Will began a lap of honour, carrying the bear around the ring. He stopped and shifted his weight to get a better hold, before putting his knee against the backbone of the bear and starting to pull it back towards him. The crowd went WILD, the Showman became hysterical, pleading with him to stop - for he could see his livelihood about to become a rug rather than a meal-ticket. Will pulled harder, the bear struggling for all it was worth, and the sound of cracking bones made the Showman almost apoplectic.
Will shouted to the Showman, "Give me £10 or I'll kill him." The Showman screamed that he would, but just let his bear go. Will dropped the bear in a heap and left the ring, with the bear prostate on the ground, red tongue lolling from its mouth and looking for all the world like that last shriek from the Showman had been too late. Ten pounds was paid out, and Will was mobbed by his friends, who had never had such fun in all their lives. It took the bear over an hour to recover its wits and clamber to its feet.
Two weeks later, it was Brecon Fair. Once again, the Showman and his Fierce Bear offered brave men £1 for spending five minutes in its company. Will made a point of heading straight towards this sideshow, but the bear, suddenly noticing his deadly enemy, became hysterical with fright and the Showman quickly gave Will another £5 just to keep away from it . . ."
Oh I have enjoyed writing that! First bit of creative writing for years now. In fact, I feel like my old self today. I enjoyed going to the Library today and getting "Epynt Without People" by Ronald Davies, from the Locked Stack and doing some research. The details for this story are all true, Will Morgan DID wrestle with the bear, and carry half a ton of oak log to the village. The people of the Epynt seemed to be such a special group, everyone knew everyone, and they were all held together by a social cohesion which had lasted centuries until the MoD ended it in 1940 when it cleared them all from the land. Even as an English incomer I cannot forgive the MoD for that - you can imagine the distress the farmers felt and yet they all managed to find other farms to carry on their life's work, although some of them were far away in Carmarthenshire and they must have felt a dreadful Hiraeth (deep longing) for their homeland forever.
Have a good weekend, all.