A chronicle entry for the Secret Annex
C.A.
In memory of Brother Wyn.
Anno Domini 1282
“Lamb or Fountain?”
Few questions in Buallt have divided so many households, or been answered with such conviction. Every man is expected to choose upon his first visit and swear that setting foot in the rival house will bring a curse upon himself and his family line. The question is said to be as old as the town itself, though the inhabitants are less certain when asked how old either tavern might be.
The Fountain, officially the Fountain & Ford, was once the property of the Cadwgan family. Its Welsh name, Y Ffynnon a’r Rhyd, survived among those who had drunk there before its sale to English newcomers. The shortened Y Ffynnon endured alongside the Fountain, allowing a man to declare his allegiance in either tongue.
The English family associated with the Lamb arrived in 1257, established there through the patronage of Roger Mortimer the elder. Little is known of their former name, for they took that of the tavern and became known affectionately among their neighbours as “the lambs”.
What service secured Roger’s favour remains unknown to this chronicler. Rumour held that they had assisted him in murdering a rival lord, although no firm evidence supports the accusation. The Cadwgans were frequently credited with its circulation; whether they originated it is equally uncertain.
The Garrison’s Thirst
The Lamb became a favoured house of those attached to the Mortimers, including soldiers of the Builth garrison. Despite the severity of the punishment for breaking curfew, men were often found slipping beneath a gap in the palisades of the northern motte and making their way down to the tavern. Their willingness to risk discovery speaks well of the ale, though perhaps less well of the officers charged with keeping them inside.
There were also rumours of ale being smuggled back into camp. When caught, soldiers were said to claim Mortimer protection, a defence whose success depended, I suspect, upon who had caught them.
Even the Mortimer brothers were accused of carrying Epynt Meadow Ale in their flasks, a brew available only at the Fountain. Alas, all I have is rumour and hearsay on that particular subject, but I believe there is a good amount of truth in the slurred words of men away from their wives and deep in their cups.
Cocks and Wagers
Cockfighting, said to have been brought to Middle Wales from the Wigmore region, had become so popular that only Keragon, hunting and wrestling rivalled its following. Considerable fortunes depended upon the birds, and several records show animals, crops and even fields passing from one owner to another through the sport.
The Fountain remains the only tavern known to have changed hands over cockfighting. One report also names a Brychan of Neudd Uchaf, who attempted to wager his own wife upon a fight. The words before me confirm that his offer was not accepted, though they give no account of what she said when she heard of it.
Madoc Goch
The loss of the Fountain remained a bitter matter within the Cadwgan family. Madoc Goch’s losses at cockfighting forced its sale, while his drinking and continued gambling deepened the quarrel with his father, Cai. The breach also took Madoc’s daughter, Ceri, from his household; she was raised with Cai at Gellicadwgan.
Madoc nevertheless remained a familiar presence at the Fountain. Most nights found him beneath the roof his family had once owned, casting dice or wagering on the birds in the hope of gathering enough money to buy it back. He regarded the next wager as a possible means of restoring what the previous ones had cost him.
Whatever else his neighbours said of Madoc Goch, nobody needed to ask which tavern he favoured.
Final Entry
So many stories have been told of the two great taverns of our age, many tales tall enough to stumble and fall into the ditch after last orders, and some I cannot repeat here.
My greatest fear with an entry such as this is that I have failed to give it the seriousness and attention to detail Brother Wyn would have demanded. I am bound by oath never to set foot in the Lamb, but another visit to the Fountain for Epynt Meadow Ale may help settle the outstanding questions.
