Long ago a huge venomous serpent made its home in the rough ground of Penhesgyn, a prosperous farm near Penmynydd, and terrified the district. The farmer and his wife had one son, their heir. One day a fortune teller came to the door, was given food and drink, and in return told them that a great snake would be the death of their son. They sent him away to England, out of the serpent's reach.
Back at home a local man worked out how to kill it. He dug a pit and set a polished brass pan in the bottom. When the serpent came to look at the glinting thing it saw its own reflection, took it for a rival, and attacked it again and again until it was exhausted and its venom spent. Then it was killed with a single blow and buried.
Years later the son came home, now a grown man, and wanted to see the creature that was supposed to kill him. He had the grave dug up. Nothing was left but the skull. He kicked it, laughing at the prophecy, and a fang went through his thin leather boot into his foot. The last of the venom in it was enough. He fell ill within hours and died, and the fortune teller was proved right.
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