In the year 55 BC with Julius Caesar poised over the southern horizon, King Caswallawn of the Southern Brythons sends the country's leading Ambassador, one Lord Androgeus north to high Galedon, where he will plead for military assistance from King Ederus (Picts). His plea to the Galedonian High-King was recorded for posterity, as was the great King's response. Here follows a fictional interpretation of that historical meeting of two iconic individuals so long ago.
The sun finally broke free of a cloud’s clinging embrace and
flooded the Caer with enervating sunlight and colour, just as Erran turned up
with a jug of hot mead, along with his favourite Auroch-horn cup and Ederus
winked at the boy in thanks. As he sipped the delicious honeyed mead which
steamed pleasingly in the cold air, a cornwr
sounded assembly suddenly from the battlements and a long retinue of robed
ambassadors appeared then from around the corner of the guest lodges, with the
tall and imperious figure of Lord Androgeus at its head.
The assembled Kings, Princes and Gŵyrd unknotted themselves
and the crowd parted like an axe-split log, making room for the noble
delegation and a hushed silence descended on the congregation now, as the
thirteen elegant men walked sedately down the long avenue vacated by the great
and good there assembled. The competing young men dissolved into the crowd and
the young Ladies departed the ring of benches in flitting clouds of colourful
silk and lace and Ederus’ mood lifted at the approach of the famous and long-awaited
Ambassadorial delegation.
Lord Androgeus led his retinue around the state Stag of
Galedon, his eyes rising to appreciate its ancient beauty for a brief moment
before returning to the dais ahead, and the huge figure of great King Ederus on
the legendary marble throne awaiting his presence. He came to within nine feet
of the great throne and stopped at the mark on the ground, a distance of three
reeds and no more. This mark was made as always by the white ceremonial rod of
ash, six feet long and capped both ends with sculpted silver, twice the length
of the ancient wielded type. Known
throughout the land as the Llath y Gallu
Gwyn; the white rod of power, which was deeply carved with the runes and
swirling designs of ancient legitimacy. Once carried by the Kings of old as a
symbol of their authority, now a longer version was fastened to the ground by
two ‘U’ shaped pins of decorated silver, at the precisely measured distance.
The Parth y Brenin, or sacred ‘King’s Zone’ this rod on the ground delineated,
was an ancient royal safety measure known throughout Prydein and Gallia and
regardless of accident, to cross its mark without invitation was to court a
swift and violent death in times of crisis or war. A finely dressed warrior in
the gleaming mail and blood-red cloak of Galedon, stood to one side to enforce
the Parth y Brenin, with a beautifully polished war spear if absolutely
necessary. His fabulous mirrored helmet shone in the sunshine and the long,
leaf-shaped blade of his spear had also been extravagantly tinned, making it
gleam like a mirror and although it was clearly a ceremonial weapon, the
unspoken threat was there nonetheless.
Lord Androgeus’ diplomats fanned-out behind him in support
and the handful of clerks, who scribbled in Greek every official word spoken by
him on their waxed tablets, fell away to the sides. This delegation of serious
looking men, most of who came from the renowned House of the Cornafau Calon
were famous, as they were considered the best mediators in all Prydein and
beyond. These proud men were dressed in the same long, dark blue gowns of
pleated linen and the matching caps of the honourable Order of Llysgennau, who
stood upright and forthright before the King.
Ederus smiled in welcome and recognition of the blue-blooded
lord Ambassador ahead of his professional colleagues, who followed Androgeus’
lead and bowed deeply before him. The diplomats filed away then, leaving Lord
Androgeus alone in his dark blue pleated gown which fell to his ankles and his
cap gleamed with a band of gold braid, declaring his position.
Lord Androgeus, Brif-Llysgennad of Prydein stood tall and
proud before the King of all Galedon, his most beautiful regal daughter, his
priests and his nobles in the sharp cold air, his breath pluming. The
Ambassador looked the King in the eyes, before taking a deep breath. His chin
came up then and he took another, measured step toward Ederus, stepping over
the sacred white boundary rod on the ground and into the Parth y Brenin,
causing a low murmuring to issue from the massed crowd behind him.
Androgeus was indicating his right to do so, as although he
was not yet a King, his royal blood and unchallenged lineage allowed him the
ancient recognition of Ris y Rhi, the
right to take this further ‘Step of a King’.
The Parth y Brenin Guard made a quarter turn to his right and
half-presented his glittering saffwy-defod
toward Androgeus, in the expected age-old procedure and more excited whispers
flitted about the mass of mesmerised onlookers at this pageantry. All present
knew that this tall, intelligent looking man was not only Lord Androgeus of
world repute but knew too that the same man was in-line to wear the ancient
triple-crown of Trinobanta and to assume its vacated throne. The spearman to
this nobleman’s right was also keenly aware of the identity of his charge, as
is right and proper for the Keeper of the Parth y Brenin to know. So the
warrior remained in this half-cocked stance, as Lord Androgeus bowed once more
to Ederus, who stood and bowed deeply in return, acknowledging Androgeus’ royal
right to the Ris y Rhi before holding out his right arm wide in invitation, for
him to step onto the dais and there the two men embraced warmly.
Loud applause erupted from the mass of onlookers and both
great men were smiling, as Ederus presented his esteemed visitor to the
clapping and cheering crowd. Ederus then led the Ambassador by the arm in due
deference across the dais and symbolically aided him to the Llwyfan Areithiwr which awaited him. A
leather and lime-wood war shield, bearing the proud rearing-stag Cygil of
Galedon was mounted to the front of this large ‘podium’ of wax-polished wood
and Lord Androgeus paused at the bottom step. His heart was beating hard and
his breathing had quickened, as he stopped just short of the podium. Taking a
few deep breaths to calm himself, Androgeus bowed deeply to King Ederus again,
before turning and bowing just as deeply to all the assembled royal and noble
spectators. Straightening up he studied the crowd before him in their finery,
taking a moment to appraise the multitude of combrogi assembled in this one
place to hear him speak and he was proud, savouring each moment of possibly the
last of his beloved diplomatic missions. With a brief nod to his subordinate
diplomats, Androgeus adopted a serious expression and turned to his duty.
His diplomatic retinue now parted and standing to each side
of the dais, watched as Androgeus climbed the three wooden steps to the top
platform, to look around again at the huge congregation, which were packed like
mackerel-prey within the walls of this Caer. He cleared his throat then, before
beginning the speech he’d been practicing and improving, for all the days it
had taken to reach this great northern Caer from his offices in Gallia. Lifting
his chin as his clerks in the wings stood poised with their waxed tablets, each
with a sharp stylus at the ready, he adopted the familiar pose of the orator,
placing his right hand on the cold, polished bronze handrail before him and the
other he rested on his left hip.
“King Ederus ap Ewin ap Ewin ap Durstus Fawr. August, regal
and honoured assembly, I address you in the name of King Caswallawn Fawr ap
Beli Mawr of the Southern Brythons, but also in what is vital and most pressing
for the lives and welfare of all your loyal subjects.” He said in the
stentorian voice he had become so famous for and he paused here, to draw breath
and relax, as the professional in him took-over and he warmed to the task at
hand.
The location of the dais and this podium had been well chosen
by Ederus, clearly from experience as with the rear three sides surrounded by
stonework, his voice was amplified and carried to the furthest listeners seated
on the wooden benches against the far battlements. He took a deep breath and
pressed on.
“As nature, the wife-lover of all living things has disposed
this sacred Isle to be inhabited by the five valiant Kingdoms of Prydein and
the Princedoms that reside within each, it is not proper that we should live in
division and hatred like irrational beasts destroying one another, but rather
be united in such entire friendship and amity, that we be able to resist all
foreign enemies, if they happen to invade either one!” He completed his opening
statement, his powerful, sonorous voice booming out to all that were gathered
to hear him speak and the distant barking of a dog made the silence in the
pause even more profound.
A log of potable water was placed handily on the internal
shelf of the podium and Androgeus took a quick drink as his mouth was dry, but
he continued strongly, his left hand rising with an accusing forefinger
pointing south. “The Romans who are declared enemy to all Kings, threaten to
destroy the Southern Brythons, then what hopes of mercy can you have from such
powerful enemies, when you see your neighbours destroyed so cruelly?” He
challenged them and there were many shaking heads in the crowd. “The Romans
call themselves the lords of all the world and are now preparing to invade
sacred Prydein herself and subdue the southern Brythons and should they succeed
will also no-doubt move north, to invade Breged, Albion and even high Galedon,
as the treacherous Wolf of Rome’s ambitions are unbound. He will deprive us all
of our laws and liberty and take possession of our lands, Caers and our Trefs,
and subject us to such shameful servitudes, as he has done to several powerful
nations already!” He paused again here, as a hubbub of agreement rose from the
assembly. “Nor in all truth, can we expect any more favour or mercy, than our
combrogi the Galliad and other nations who have been so wrongfully subdued by
them have received!” He added strongly. “Therefore proud Brythonic cenedl of Prydein, let us join together
to resist the common enemy and hazard our lives in battle in hopes of victory,
which if we obtain by the favour of our Gods, we shall not only purchase our
liberty but likewise immortal praise and honour, to ourselves and our posterity
and bri forever – May The Gods Allow!” He finished with the plea and the massed
audience of listeners responded in turn.
“May the Gods Allow!”
The ground shook with the thunderous reply and Androgeus
nodded at the response, looking gratified.
Ederus had long-discussed this issue with his Gŵyrd of lords
and many hard decisions had already been made but this official procedure must
be met regardless, and he rose now from his huge marble throne to face his
collective people and deliver his considered response. He bowed to Androgeus,
who climbed down the steps and who bowed deeply in return and Ederus shook his
hand warmly, before mounting the familiar steps of his own podium.
The King of Galedon looked astounding at that height and
Ederus’ bulk and broad shoulders drew the eye inexorably, as did the fabulous
brooch and the stunning old gold antler-crown of Galedon, set above the long
nose and big rugged face. The steely eyes of King Ederus in all his glory who
now stood before his subjects, glittered with pride. Ederus’ chest swelled and
his square, bearded chin jutted as he looked around at the fascinated,
well-known faces of his people and he nodded his big and noble head, as if
pleased by what he saw.
“Honourable Lord Androgeus, come in the name of King
Caswallawn ap Beli of the Southern Brythons.” He began in his deep baritone,
his breath billowing into the cold air.
He made a modest pause here, so that his vassal princes, Gŵyr
and nobles would note the omission of the word Fawr. Whilst the Southern Brythons may call him such, the title had
not been nationally ratified and considered an ‘affectation’ by most
northerners, so he side-stepped it as tactfully as he could whilst still making
the point with the obvious omission.
After looking down his prominent nose at the amassed crowd of
people for a moment he pressed on, looking then at Androgeus.
“What you desire for our well-beloved neighbours being
honourable and advantage to our own common interest, we desire for ourselves as
is right and so are resolved to join you in the defence of our realms, which
have been so valiantly protected by our honoured progenitors, from the many
threatened attempts from all dread enemy past. As the circumstances of our
combrogi and our ancient friends in Gallia, Batavia, Iberia and many other
subdued nations who may sufficiently testify to the intolerable miseries, of
such that have submitted to the savage yoke of the Roman Empire. My opinion is,
it would have been more honourable for them to have died valiantly in the
defence of their liberty, than live in such shameful slavery!”
Ederus’ proud voice boomed around the walls and the disdain
in his voice was clear at these caustic words and the hubbub rose again in
response but Ederus held up his hand and the silence returned. “While we
ourselves are in no imminent danger from the Romans whilst the Brythons can
resist their power, yet if we may consider that if the southern Brythons be
subdued, the Romans will undoubtedly invade each of our Kingdoms in turn. And
if they should overcome us all, as all things are possible in war?” He paused
again here, looking around at the faces of his people, as the shocking question
stunned them into a horrified stillness. It hung in the cold air above them
like the ancient sword of Damocles and you could have heard a hairpin fall to
the grass.
Ederus nodded seriously in the shocked vacuum of silence
which followed.
“Then we may expect to be reduced to mean servitude, or
entirely expelled from our blessed Kingdoms of Prydein!” He added forcibly, his
face becoming ferocious at his own words. There was a low roar of resistance to
this unthinkable consequence and Ederus counted slowly to nine…., allowing
their emotions to well-up…., as he knew they would…., before he held his hand
up again for order.
“Therefore…., therefore Lord Androgeus, as your King
Caswallawn’s southern Brythons are resolved to fight against the Romans in the
just defence of his Kingdoms and your liberty, we are also resolved to hazard
our lives and stand with you, and rather die valiantly in battle if it so
please our Gods, than see our beloved neighbours the southern Brythons
destroyed, our country invaded and our people subdued or banished, whereby our
wives, children and our chattels may become prey to such merciless enemies.”
Ederus snarled resentfully with a savage twist of his mouth and there was a
horrified murmuring among the women in the audience at these words but then a
silence fell on them again, as the crushing weight of this appalling outlook
descended on them all.
Ederus stood straight and his chin came back out then,
defiance blazing from his eyes as he gripped the handrail with both hands, his
warrior’s face filling now with blood and leaning forward he raised his deep
voice, and his right fist.
“This I will not let happen, for I shall raise my Army!” He
roared, spittle flying from his bared teeth and all eyes were drawn to his
terrible warface. “I shall with all haste Lord Androgeus, raise my host and
move to expedition and send ourselves south to join Caswallawn your proud King
at the pre-determined location. We shall at that place, welcome this foreign
trespasser - together!” Ederus declared loudly, raising his right fist again
and now pointing south with his left. He was forced to pause there, as the
sound from the crowd at this declaration of war would have drowned his words.
Ederus rubbed his intertwined fingers together absently for
the warmth and waited, his eyes glittering but order was soon restored by the
calming gestures and soothing entreaties of the twelve blue-gowned diplomats
and Ederus continued strongly.
“You shall entreat good King Cridas of Albion on your way
south Lord Androgeus, at the sacred triple-hills of DunEil and ask too that he
raise his army and join us in this righteous undertaking.” Ederus charged
Androgeus with a nod. “And I shall also send birds and emissaries there in
support of our endeavours and further southward too, to entreat my friend and
ally King Bellnor of the Bregantau at CaerUswer, to join with us in accord with
our declared articles of alliance and we shall have our blessed Triad!” He declared
gruffly. “As I find my people of Galedon unanimously inclined to comply with my
desire, I make no doubt of their valour and that with the assistance of our
Gods, we shall obtain victory, in the just defence of our country and together
we shall repel the wolf of Rome - as the Galedonau go to war! - May the Gods
Allow!” He roared at them, his face flushed with the blood of his deadly
promise.
“May the Gods Allow!” Was bellowed back in deafening unison
and the ground shook as Galedon declared war on Rome.
Birds took
to the air in fright and dogs barked, as pandemonium ensued.
Excerpt from; Iron Blood & Sacrifice (The Sons of Beli Mawr)
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