King Nynniaw ap Beli Mawr - Champion of Prydein.
This great tribe arrayed before Caesar now were unusual,
looking regal and superior somehow to his trained eye, and his spirits and
hopes dipped. Their main battle-banner was an enormous black flag, spangled
with silver stars and displaying a flaming war-hammer at its heart, above a
golden crown and three tapering lanes. Two long and white, flowing pennants
flanked this enormous banner with a sinuous, fire-breathing red-dragon
emblazoned upon each. Their Kings were magnificent, especially the huge man in
the centre who incredibly seemed to be mounted on a unicorn. A golden crest
shone from the crown of his fabulous helmet and a large flaming war-hammer
adorned his long, black shield. The mounted lords of his vanguard were
similarly dressed in black over polished mail, carrying long, oval black
shields with silver war-hammer armorials, in stark contrast to their soldiery.
The glimmering army of burly soldiers standing behind them in ordered ranks,
wore crimson and black chequered cloaks and trews. To a-man they sported
red-dragon tattoos and voluminous drooping moustaches of enormous proportions,
which did nothing to hide the murderous grins on their faces. They were stout,
dark-haired men with even darker, glittering eyes and Caesar knew these to be
killing men. They were all very obviously seasoned and highly experienced
warriors who marched proudly behind their round, red-dragon shields and they
bristled with tall, razor-sharp spears. More worryingly, they all seemed
absolutely delighted to see him.
Cadwy drew his cyfail up a small hill to the north barely
sixty reeds away, to watch with bated-breath as the legendary sons of Beli Mawr
joined the fray, and with a devastating downhill, v-shaped charge they split
the Roman ranks. A loud clashing of steel arrived on the breeze which erupted
from those battling front ranks and within a few brief minutes of determined
fury, the Cymbri had effectively corralled Caesar and his officers. They were
clearly attempting to allow the legendary King Nynniaw; the Champion of all Prydein
to rightly demand his Rhan y Rhyswr,
and all these excited witnesses were breathless in anticipation. Bright steel
flashed, far swifter than the eye could follow from this distance and the Lords
of Cymbri penetrated the gelyn’s ranks in fury, so that Nynniaw could claim his
‘champion’s portion’ and take the fight to Caesar himself.
Cadwy and all the people around him watched truly entranced
by what was enfolding below them on the grass of Fro Cantion, as these splendid
Cymbric Lords now poured into the Roman ranks with an unsurpassed élan. Their
sacred, glittering blades flashed with the utmost speed and accuracy, and many
outclassed Roman soldiers were cut to ribbons before they even knew what had
hit them. Black capes over dazzling mail, and a following swarm of red-chequered
mantles seemed to explode into those Roman ranks and none could stand. King
Nynniaw ap Beli Mawr had thrashed a space around himself with his glorious,
glittering and most famous bar of steel, which all here knew without seeing was
deeply engraved with its animalistic forms. It was known throughout Prydein as Weiryn y Ddraig and as Nynniaw’s
‘Dragon-Blade’ flashed like silver lightning below, Cadwy held his breath as
did everyone around him.
*
* * * *
As Nynniaw approached the obvious knot of protective warriors
around their General, the experienced looking ranks of guards closest to Caesar
fought like demons in his protection, especially a tall and aristocratic
looking officer who barred the way. The enraged Nynniaw would not be deflected
nor would he be denied his claim, and he dropped this officer like a sack of dead
rabbits at his feet with a savage blow to his neck with the legendary Weiryn y Ddraig. This mortally wounded
noble was identified as one Labienus by the cries of alarm and calls for his
rescue from the Romans, who dragged this man away, his neck streaming blood and
his toga splashed heavily with the same. Supported by Lludd, Afalach and
Nynniaw’s enraged son Gwerdded, the Red Dragons of Prydein attacked the
General’s personal guard and they were unstoppable. In moments, there in front
of the infuriated King and Champion of all Prydein stood the Roman General
himself.
“Cymbri am byth! Prydein am byth!” Nynniaw roared his battlecry and attacked
Caesar in a heartbeat. The Romans surged to protect their general, but
Nynniaw’s family had responded to his shout and they battled their way around
him, dropping Romans like skittles to protect him, and to isolate the two and
allow this sacred bout of mortal combat they demanded. Lludd, Afalach and
Gwerdded slaughtered Romans left and right with an insurmountable ferocity as
did their relentless champions, forcing back the Romans and abruptly there were
two men fighting in a clearing.
Hundreds of stocky warriors, bearing red dragons on their
shields and on their thick arms flooded three sides of this ground, clearing an
area around them and holding back Brythonic and Roman soldiers alike, so that
the finest swordsman in the land, and the chosen Red Dragon of Prydein could claim
his champion’s portion and address the Roman in single, mortal combat. Nynniaw
attacked Caesar again with an electric suddenness and with an enraged overhead
cut, but Caesar somehow parried it, stepping away quickly. The two men began to
circle each other and the air around them was suddenly filled with the roaring
and cheering of both camps, as all hostilities had been wordlessly suspended.
Both were steeped in a lifetime of training and military
tradition, and the fight was instantly a highly technical but brutal bout, as
they lunged and hacked at each other with accurate and murderous intent. Blocking
and parrying with the reactions of serpents, each looked for the slightest
chink in the other’s defence and the baying of the crowd around them grew.
The deep and solid ranks of the Essyllyr who had almost
encircled this fight, locked-shields now to hold back the swarming Brythons heading
uphill, all careering mindlessly toward the vast mob around the fight on its
crown. They were all lost to the killing madness and so had to be controlled by
the red-dragon warriors of the motherland, but this caused a beaver-like dam of
clamorous warriors across the western uplands of Fro Caint. These inebriated,
animated warriors were all screaming blue-faced murder and shoving forward like
lunatics, as more and more warriors flowed across Fro Caint to thicken their
rear ranks at the foot of this hill. However bright their alcohol-fuelled ardour burned, it fell well-short of suicide and none would brave the sharp spears of the indomitable Essyllyr, as their sharp edges had no concept of race or creed.
“Cymbri am byth! Prydein am byth!” Nynniaw roared again within
this manic, almost uncontrollable circle of yelling and jostling warriors. Prydein’s
Pencampwr and sword-master began to dominate the Roman general with a furious
assault, Weiryn y Ddraig a shimmering
blur.
Caesar blocked and parried for his life, his head flicking
from side-to-side to dodge the long, flashing steel and he retreated steadily
from the ferocity of this huge warrior, his eyes wide. He flashed his gladius
at Nynniaw’s eyes when he was able, but had failed to make even a fleeting
contact, as there wasn’t a scrap of exposed skin anywhere on this King, as his
dazzling accoutrements were of the very highest order. They clashed again then,
the edges of their hugely unmatched swords biting at each other as the two men
heaved and twisted for advantage, but Nynniaw was bigger and much stronger.
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