There was a prince; his name was Llewellyn. His uncle, King John, gave him a dog, a hunting dog. The dog’s name was Gellert. Gellert was a fine hunting dog. When he left the castle he could smell a deer one kilometre away. He could run faster than a deer. He was so strong that he could knock a deer over. He was a fine hunting dog.
One day Prince Llewellyn went hunting with his friends. He called all his dogs. But Gellert wouldn’t go. Gellert stood in the doorway of the castle and wagged his tail and put his head on one side, but he would not leave the castle.
Llewellyn was angry! He shouted, ‘Come on Gellert! Come here!’ But Gellert wouldn’t leave the castle. So Llewellyn and his friends went hunting with the other dogs.
Llewellyn and his friends caught nothing. When they came back to the castle they were angry. As they came to the castle Gellert bounded out towards them, wagging his tail. As he came closer Llewellyn saw there was blood on Gellert’s face and sides.
‘How could that be?’ Llewellyn thought. ‘Gellert sometimes plays with my child. Gellert is half wolf, half wild. Perhaps he has killed my child!’ And Llewellyn ran into the castle. He ran to the child’s room. All the furniture was turned over. There was blood everywhere. Llewellyn couldn’t see his child.
Prince Llewellyn took his sword and drove it into the side of Gellert. With the last gasp for life of Gellert, Llewellyn heard the cry of his child from beneath the overturned cot. Llewellyn ran to the cot, turned it over, and there was the child, perfectly safe, perfectly well. But behind the cot was a dead wolf.
Llewellyn was very sad. What could he do? He couldn’t bring Gellert back to life! He dug a hole for Gellert outside the castle. He put Gellert in the hole and covered him with stones, a great pile of stones. He put a plaque on the stones: ‘To Gellert, a faithful dog.’
You can still see this pile of stones in North Wales. The place is called Beddgellert, ‘the grave of Gellert’ in the Welsh language.