A gentle son-in-law , truly ! ' he cried , writhing with pain . ' I shall ever walk the worse for this rudeness . Cursed be the smith who forged it , and the anvil on which it was wrought ! ' That night the men slept in the house of Custennin the herdsman , and the next day they proceeded to the castle , and entered the hall , and said : ` Yspaddaden Penkawr , give us thy daughter and thou shalt keep her dower . And unless thou wilt do this we will slay thee . ' ` Her four great grandmothers and her four great grandfathers yet live , ' answered Yspaddaden Penkawr ; ` it is needful that I take counsel with them . ' ` Be it so ; we will go to meat , ' but as they turned he took up the second dart that lay by his side and cast it after them . And Menw caught it , and flung it at him , and wounded him in the chest , so that it came out at his back . ' A gentle son-in-law , truly ! ' cried Yspaddaden , ` the iron pains me like the bite of a horse-leech . Cursed be the hearth whereon it was heated , and the smith who formed it ! ' The third day Arthur 's men returned to the palace into the presence of Yspaddaden . ` Shoot not at me again , ' said he , ` unless you desire death . But lift up my eyebrows , which have fallen over my eyes , that I may see my son-in-law . ' Then they arose , and as they did so Yspaddaden Penkawr took the third poisoned dart and cast it at them . And Kilweh caught it , and flung it back , and it passed through his eyeball , and came out on the other side of his head . ' A gentle son-in-law , truly ! Cursed be the fire in which it was forged and the man who fashioned it ! ' The next day Arthur 's men came again to the palace and said : ` Shoot not at us any more unless thou desirest more pain than even now thou hast , but give us thy daughter without more words . '
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