Three is a Magic Number

First off, in “Culhwch and Olwen,” we meet Bwlch, Cyfwlch and Syfwlch, with “three gleaming glitterers their three shields; three pointed piercers their three spears; three keen carvers their three swords; Glas, Glesig, Gleisad their three dogs; Call, Cuall, Cafall, their three horses; Hwyrddyddwg and Drwgddyddwg and Llwyrddyddwg, their three wives; Och and Garym and Diasbad, their three grandchildren; Lluched and Neued and Eisywed, their three daughtes; Drwg and Gwaeth and Gwaerthaf Oll, their three maid servants” (Culhwch and Olwen 94-95). That was my first not-so-subtle tip-off that the number three might be of certain significance in these Welsh Arthurian legends. These groupings of threes fluctuate between rhyme and alliteration, devices that assist in remembrance (or at least grabbing the reader’s attention). Further, in “Arthur in the Early Welsh Tradition,” Bollard indicates that ancient Celts gathered information in groups of threes “as a means of classifying, remembering, and passing on a wide range of information and lore” (Bollard 23). The author sites specific examples of Welsh Triads, which primarily consist of “historic” names, events, and places. While Bollard provides no specific explanation as to why the Celts proffered everything from dogma to genealogy in groups of threes, I’m left guessing that the importance of triple-groupings stems from the Christian trinity. Then, I’m still puzzled over why a holy, sacred number would be used to group unholy, even pathetic things like “Three Faithless Wives” and “Three Futile Battles.” Perhaps three was special long before the Romans brought Christianity to the British Isles? What exactly is its significance and why (or am I just reading too much into this?)? The repetition and multiplication of the number three throughout “Culwch and Olwen” really struck me. For instance, Trefoils follow Olwen wherever she goes; there are third days, third attempts, and three more sons. Cei has his quirks: “nine nights and nine days his breath lasted under water, nine nights and nine days would he be without sleep” (Culhwch and Olwen 96). Nine, a number divisible by three, bestows super-human powers onto Cei. And, “on the third day Arthur himself fought [for] nine nights and nine days” (116).

This use of repetitive “three’s” carries through “The Dream of Rhonabwy” as well. Precisely three times, Olwein asks Arthur to call his men off the ravens, and then the plot shifts, the ravens attack the squires and Arthur asks Olwein – three times – to call the ravens off the men. Game over. I also wonder if it is more than a coincidence that while in the midst of his dream on the “yellow ox skin” Rhonabwy “slept three nights and three days” (The Dream of Rhonabwy 135).

So, is the third time, indeed, the charm?