Epynt Meadow Spring
Chronicle Entry - Secret Annex
Recorded by Brother Wyn of Caermynach, Anno Domini 918
Known As: The Spring of Epynt Meadow, Ffynnon y Weirglodd Epynt
Location: Caermynach (Epynt Meadow), Maesmynis Valley, Brycheiniog
Source River: Duhonw
Properties: Healing waters, ice-cold at source
Ffynnon y Weirglodd Epynt was a spring that rose in the meadows above Maesmynis, where the River Duhonw began its course toward the Wye. The monastery at Caermynach was built within sight of this spring, three hundred paces distant. The water emerged ice-cold even in summer. Those who dwelt near the spring, including the brothers of this house, observed that the temperature never varied across the seasons.
The Record
The spring emerged at a point where the land changed character. South of the water lay red sandstone country, the soil heavy with iron. North of the spring stretched limestone uplands, white stone country where sheep found good grazing. The spring itself rose at the exact boundary between these formations, as though marking where two different sorts of earth met and could proceed no further. This division may be observed by walking the ground. A man may stand with one foot on red earth and one on white stone, the spring flowing between.
The water was noted for clarity and coldness. Those who placed their hands in the flow reported a chill that seemed to reach the bone, though not painful. The spring maintained steady volume across all weathers. Neither drought nor flood altered the strength of its rising. This constancy, combined with the unchanging temperature, drew attention from those who sought understanding of hidden patterns in creation.
Accounts preserved by local memory spoke of healing properties. Wounds washed in the water were said to close cleanly. Fevers diminished after drinking from the source. The aged who drank from the spring regularly were observed to maintain strength longer than their years might suggest, though all mortals must eventually fail. These effects were stronger when the water was taken directly from the spring head. Once the water had travelled some distance downstream and mixed with other flows, the properties weakened.
The Church's Account
The Church teaches that the spring's properties derive from the blessing of Saint Cynllo, who travelled through these valleys in the sixth century bringing the faith to the upland people. According to tradition preserved by the bishops, the saint knelt beside the spring and prayed that its waters might bring healing to those who drank in faith. The cold temperature is explained as a sign of the water's purity, blessed by prayer to remain uncorrupted across the ages.
This account has been accepted by the faithful for many generations. The monastery at Caermynach was founded in part to tend the holy spring and ensure its waters were used in accordance with Christian teaching. Pilgrims who come seeking healing are instructed to pray to Saint Cynllo before drinking, and many report benefit from this practice.
The difficulty with this account, known to those who study the older records but not spoken of openly, is that traditions about the spring's properties pre-date Saint Cynllo by many centuries. The geological boundary where the spring rises existed long before any saint walked these valleys. The druids who dwelt here before the faith came already knew the water's strength and guarded its use. What the Church has blessed may have been sacred by older measure first.
This presents no contradiction to faith. God may work through creation itself, establishing properties in water and stone long before sending saints to reveal their purpose to Christian understanding. The spring may be both ancient in origin and sacred in present use. Yet the pre-Christian traditions must be recorded, if only in the Secret Annex, so that the full truth of what has been observed across the ages is not lost to simplification.
Origin
The druids who dwelt in these valleys before the faith came preserved traditions about the spring's creation that reach back into ages when time itself was differently counted. Their accounts, recorded here for completeness though not endorsed by the Church above the tradition of Saint Cynllo, spoke of two great powers who shaped the valley in the time before Britain knew the Gospel.
According to this tradition, the southern country belonged to Cadarn, whose nature was fire and red earth. The northern uplands were the domain of Ysgar, whose nature was frost and white stone. These names appear in older Welsh traditions as Y Ddraig Goch and Y Ddraig Wen, the red dragon and the white dragon whose conflict is remembered in stories passed down through the generations. The red dragon has long been understood as the spirit of the Welsh people. The white dragon has been interpreted variously as the threat of invasion, the press of foreign powers against our borders, or simply the principle of opposition that tests strength through struggle.
When the world was still being set in order, these two came to disagreement about the valley that lay between their territories. Each claimed the Maesmynis as rightfully theirs. Neither would yield.
The druids taught that in the moment of their sharpest conflict, the earth itself broke open between them. What emerged was neither red earth nor white stone, but clear water that carried properties of both realms yet belonged fully to neither. The spring ran cold as Ysgar's breath through soil red as Cadarn's fire. The water served as boundary and as witness. Neither power could cross it without acknowledgment of the other.
The tradition held that this breaking created a threshold, a place where the membrane between what is seen and what is hidden grew thin. The druids claimed the spring marked a doorway, though to what realm they would not say to those outside their teaching. The Church has stamped out such errors where it finds them. These words are set down only so that the old falsehoods might be known and properly refuted.
Where Found
The spring rises in open meadowland east of Abergwesyn, in the high country of Brycheiniog, perhaps four miles from this monastery as a man might walk the old paths. The meadow itself has remained unploughed across the generations. Whether this was due to reverence for the spring, poor soil quality, or simple custom, no record clarifies, though the brothers of Caermynach have maintained this tradition since our house was founded. The land stays wild grass and rush, the spring flowing freely without enclosure or diversion.
The water descends from the meadow to form the River Duhonw, which flows south and east to meet the Irfon near Llangamarch, thence to the Wye. The spring's influence may be noted for perhaps two miles of the river's course, after which the waters mingle fully with other streams and lose their distinctive coldness. We who draw from the spring daily can attest to where its properties persist and where they fade.
Accounts
The monastery at Caermynach stands three hundred paces from the spring's rising. We who dwell here observe the waters daily. The properties noted in ancient accounts persist, though much diminished from what the druids claimed. Brothers who have served here longest report that regular consumption of water from the spring, when managed prudently, appears to preserve strength beyond the common span. Brother Cadoc, who entered this house in the year 871, maintains the vigour of a man twenty years his junior, though he has now passed sixty winters.
The water drawn from the spring is used in brewing what has become known through the valleys as Epynt Meadow Ale. This is done with care and reverence, never in excess. The resulting drink commands prices greater than its weight in gold, for those who know its properties guard the supply jealously. A single barrel might purchase a plough team and the ox to pull it. Most who seek it cannot obtain it at any price.
The effects require discipline. Drinking too freely brings no benefit, or so the brothers who tend the brewing have determined through long observation. A measure each day, no more, taken with prayer and thanksgiving. The old prohibition against drinking directly from the source is no longer needed. Whatever doorway once stood here closed long ago, in the time of the Romans. What remains is merely the seepage of former power through the ground, an echo of what was, sufficient to strengthen but no longer to transform or curse.
Final Entry
The spring flows still in this year 918, eight hundred and thirty-eight years since the threshold closed. The meadow remains wild grass, never turned to plough. The water rises cold as ever, though the healing strength has waned to perhaps a tenth of what the oldest accounts describe. We who live beside it are grateful for what remains. The brothers of Caermynach grow old more slowly than brothers elsewhere, though all men die in their time.
The druidic traditions recorded above were no longer openly taught outside these walls. Their preservation in this account serves historical purpose and practical wisdom both. The spring itself remains what it has always been: a boundary between red earth and white stone, a threshold written into the land's formation, and a gift whose full meaning may be understood only by those who dwell close enough to observe its constancy across the passing years.
Note: The properties of this spring are known to me through daily observation. The brothers of Caermynach have dwelt beside these waters for generations. What is recorded here regarding extended vigour among those who drink prudently from the spring is verified by our own house's experience. The connection between cold springs, thin places, and what lies beyond mortal sight remains a matter the Church has not resolved to speak upon openly, though we who live closest to such places observe their effects with care and gratitude.
