The Eglwysilan Road Spirits
An allelujah away from Eglwysilan Church is the Rose and Crown hostelry, famed far and wide for its good cheer.
In the days when men waxed their whiskers and quaffed quarts of ale, Mog Llywelyn, beer-bellied and bleary eyed, was trundling home to Abertridwr. He hadnt gone but two score strides when he heard faint footfalls following behind. Mogs heart cartwheeled into his throat as the thought of the Eglwysilan spirits ran into his head.
It was tittle-tattled in the Aber Valley that whoever walked after dark between Eglwysilan Church and its original siting near the quarry would catch the sound of spirits stepping in shadowy shoes.
Mog plodded on until he passed the quarry, but the sound continued like the devil beating a tattoo on someones soul. Fermenting with Dutch courage, Mog stretched his hand behind to feel his unknown attendant. The ruffled brow of his care was immediately smoothed. He had never heard tell of a shaggy spirit! It was Tango, the innkeepers dog.
The landlord lived in Abertridwr and he walked home late every night after placing the towels on the bar. Faithful as a dog should be, Tango always waited for his master; but even a dog can bark up the wrong tree in the dark.
Key Contact: Rhymney Valley Tales
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