Three nations gather under the stars of Lughnas.
Over thirty thousand spiritually charged people surrounded
the torch-lit clearing on the Plain of Uswer under a sharply clear night, and
the heavens above them were filled with a myriad glittering stars. The countless
heads of these people were awash with their cold light and the bright wedge of
an inquisitive three-quarter moon also cast its pale, yellow light over the
proceedings as the people under it watched with a captive, superstitious
fascination. The huge ring of destiny before them was sealed, as twenty-one
Arch-Druids now faced outwards and surrounded the scorched circle of earth
within, standing in their long white gowns between each of the tall ring of
burning torches and with their arms solemnly outstretched. The hushed
atmosphere of this vast space was one of awestruck tension now and all stood
agog and wide-eyed as the Prime Druid of Prydein in all his glory, finally made
his stunning appearance.
The ancient stone altar which had been placed in the centre
of this burned space, where many had perished in the searing heat of the votive
man and which now took pride of place, acted as the Druid’s black portal to the
Underworld. HênDdu now held centre-stage with his arms outspread and his high,
denuded brow gleaming in the torchlight beneath the gold Acorn crown, and the gold collar below it matched its rich, buttery
yellow gleam. The Brif-Druid looked magnificent and terrifying all at once, as
he began the sacred process with a sonorous litany to the Gods in his surreal and
otherworldly voice.
Brought forth by his Arch-Druid Einion, the fabulous state-sword
of Prydein; Caled-Sol took its
honoured place at the front of this gnarled and chipped altar and a beautiful
silver cauldron shared the rough-hewn surface with this sacred national icon.
The three priceless but very different crowns of the assembled Kings also sat
alongside each other on this cold stone, and all three were touching, forming a
most sacred symbol. Two tall and large torches burned brightly either end of this
altar and together with the encircling ring of the same, they lit the sacred
circle and the first twenty or so enraptured ranks of encircling watchers in the
surrounding maes, with the uncountable ranks of people stretched out behind
them vanishing into the gloom of the starlit distance. The Brif-Druid’s
assistants; Guron, Einion and Drem stood to one side, arms out too in support
of their master and the outer ring of Druids filed away then, back to their
adjacent conclave. The Gŵyrd and the werrin shuffled forward to approach the
now open sacred circle and the ceremony began. None were surprised when their
indomitable Prime Druid took control of this fraught ceremony with the ease of
a lifetime’s experience and knowledge, showing none of the strains this
absolutely vital ceremony made on him, as it represented in many ways the
survival of all these people here. The pride was bright in their eyes as the
most feared man in Prydein and beyond, led them into a new but uncertain future
under these bright but portentous stars of Lughnas.
During the following drawn-out and blood-soaked ceremony a
man and a woman, a bull and a cow, a stallion and a mare, a pig and a sow, a
ram and an ewe, a dog and a bitch and a cock and hen had all been sacrificed
together. A token part of their blood had been collected in this great silver
cauldron, which sat again on the altar now and steamed in the night air with
the freshness of its contents, whilst the still twitching carcasses were dragged
away. These were expertly dismembered by the Druids, who sorted and rearranged
the body parts and fixed them back together again with double-ended, sharpened
sticks, to fashion blood-curdling and hideous, shape-shifted monsters of eternal
nightmare. Once these abominations had been assembled they were
deposited in offering to their Gods in a nearby peat bog, to much incantation
and prayer.
A swirling Tarth y
Derwydd appeared then around HênDdu’s bare feet and these misty druid-born
tentacles began to insinuate themselves about the stone altar, reaching out
to the surrounding onlookers, wrapping their spirit fingers around their legs
and caressing them with a ghostly touch, unnerving many and making them back
fearfully away. They were brought up short by the immovable multitude behind
however and were thus forced to accept the terror of the druid’s mist, in dumb and
fascinated dread. This living, spirit-formed mist thickened around AurArian’s
bare feet as the temperature dropped noticeably in the circle and the lords, and the wealthy nobility encircling the front of this surrounding horde felt
this chill and became fearful themselves, their eyes becoming wide and all
kissed their iron in superstitious fear.
AurArian Aruchel had in his infinite wisdom called for this
declaration of the people to be made immediately after the rituals of Lughnas
which is not uncommon, as Lughnas is ever the season for warfare. A truly ancient ceremony was then performed
by the Brif-Druid which required the fervent prayers of all his Druids at the
altar and involved the solemn feeding of this huge horde of people with flat-cakes,
made by the aristocracy for their
werrin and using the first cut ears of grain of which an offering was first made
to the Dark Lord Lug himself on this altar.
As the Druids entreated the great Dark Lord with their arms outstretched
in supplication, a ritual meal of this new food was then handed out by hundreds
of arwein, who passed through the
multitude handing out parcels of wrapped burdock leaves, containing a
round flat cake along with a small handful of bilberries and hazelnuts, for which
everyone was grateful and all accepted them eagerly with a smile and a nod.
Now the imperative blessings, prayers and offerings had been
made to Arglwydd Lug Ddu and the noble’s responsibilities to their werrin had
been discharged, the all-important oath of Undeb
Trioedd could take place. Known as Cundub Tethera in the ancient dialect
and invoked by those wild old Druids, when three small neighbouring tribes would
unite in defence against a common enemy. The language and diverse dialects of
the Brythons had evolved over those intervening generations, but never had this
largely overlooked and outdated ceremony, known now to the few as Undeb Trioedd been attempted between
Nations. HênDdu was keen to establish the final part of this arcane ceremony to
the unification of these three great northern nations, before he could move-on
to the crucial National Declaration, as it was one of his highest honours and
most vital national duties.
The Brif-Druid knew his people well and their proclivity to
celebrate, and so he allowed them these minutes to vent their pent-up fears and
concerns of recent times, allowing them the time to turn their worries into
joyful and happy emotions of hope and future glory. A long and haunting note on a horn sounded
from somewhere far distant, and the surrounding people began to shuffle
backwards and to the sides as previously instructed, revealing three
equidistant wedge formations of warriors, facing the altar and standing behind
the three great Kings of northern Prydein.
Ederus, Cridas and Bellnor stepped-up to the altar then in
their best finery, from three ley-line orientated directions and their hosts
shuffled up behind them. These famous Kings glittered in the torchlight, the swirling
gold and silver inlays on their armour and accoutrements extraordinary and
their helmeted heads drew all eyes in astonished awe, as to see your King once
in your life is a blessing, but this was something else entirely. Nobody was
able to tear their incredulous gaze from this rare and glorious ceremony, or
the incredible image of these three great northern Kings facing each other, for
even a heartbeat.
Each King now stood at the altar, coming from three highly
significant directions and each Monarch stood at the pinnacle of his assembled
House, facing his own stunning crown. Their chosen-men were drawn into three
huge, horizontal pyramids of warriors behind them, beginning with two Princes
behind the King and then three Gŵyr in the spaces behind the Princes, then
four Gŵyr behind them and so on, out past the ring of torches for eleven
concentric circles, until eventually the three wedges of warriors ended at a
great ring of mail-clad men standing to attention and shoulder-to-shoulder.
Outside of this unbroken ring of steel the crowd was packed
shoulder to shoulder and sight of this warm, shifting mass of people faded into
the shadowed distance. Three hosts formed into eleven ranks, totalling sixty-six
men each were ever the numbers of power and HênDdu had arranged it thus, so
that the Dark-Lord and all of Prydein’s Deities may look down and see the
round, wheel-like shield of this Brythonic triad made real in their honour. Shaped into
a triskele from the living bodies of
their worshipful subjects.
In this unique way the three Kings faced each other at the
pointed tips of their armies they represented and they drew their Brythonic
honour daggers then, presenting them with their left hands. The tips of these
three daggers were held rock-steady and so that they almost touched, making a truly memorable spectacle. They held their fabulous Brythonic honour-daggers over the
wide rim of this fantastically sculpted silver cauldron, placed alongside their
crowns and almost full as it was with a thickening blend of still steaming gore.
HênDdu began the ancient prayer to the assembled Gods and turned to nod the
signal to the three Sovereigns. Each then grabbed the honed blades in the bare
fingers of their right hands and they drew the blades back deliberately, causing the sacred and required rivulets of royal blood to flow into the cauldron. Ederus, Cridas and
Bellnor then swore the inviolate blood-oath of triadic Undeb, together and to
HênDdu’s prompting and their bleeding hands were then clasped tightly together,
their blending regal life-blood dribbling into the clotting mess already in the
embossed silver bowl. HênDdu then wrapped a square of pristine white linen over
the knot of bleeding royal hands and the sacred blood-oath was sworn. With this
primordial procedure complete, the sacred unity of the triad was finally
achieved, and the Druid threw his arms wide and confirmed it.
“Caffo Undeb Trioedd!” He roared and over thirty thousand
voices roared back at him jubilantly. An almost uncontrollable excitement
gripped these people now and the sound that came from them was like the
subterranean rumble of a surrounding earthquake. Amid the din of bronze Carnyx’
and brass horns blowing, elk-skin drums banging and the werrin’s excited
chattering and whooping, the ever-present Gods were joyful.
Ederus, Cridas and Bellnor still gripped each other’s right
hands over the blood-splashed altar and their left hands were now too enjoined,
as they had dispensed with the cloth and formed a bleeding knot of six royal
human hands. They were grinning like fools at each other now too over this
ancient altar, each gripped by a fascinating, completely novel set of emotions
but it was clear to all who witnessed this historic occasion, that all three
were completely committed to the oath and the triadic-unity they had just
formed was a true and honourable one. All here hoped that Rome’s very
foundations would quake at the news and all that now remained was the crucial
demand of these united Nations.
Undeb Trioedd.
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