Cerwen, Corsen and Cragen turned consecutively to their right
and filed across the face of the dais, as the red glow around them faded in the
breathless hush of this hall. As they
returned as-one to the back wall you could have heard a beard-comb drop, in the
eerie vacuum of silence which followed the girls like a swirling vortex. As the third, diminutive and white gowned
figure of Cragen passed beyond the tapestry like a ghost, the great hall of
King Bellnor ap Capoir erupted into a bellowing clamour of raised voices. Many
warriors began shouting and arguing with each other and as is entirely common
in any Brythonic quarrel, there was much aggressive gesticulating, name-calling
and a great belligerent waving of arms in the smoky haze.
“Order, order!” Bellnor bellowed at the jostling and
confrontational warriors before him but even his loud voice could not be heard
above the din.
Lludd Llaw Ereint stood slowly then and a vacant expression
took hold of his rugged face as the High-King retreated and the Brif-Dewin took
his place with glittering eyes, opening his mouth. What ushered from below the
great black arch of moustache was at first a sound like a spring rill, which
grew to a babbling brook. He took another great chest-full of air then and
continued to emanate this fell sound
without pause. It became a rushing stream over a pebble-strewn bed and louder
still, until it was a roaring river in full spring flood.
Some men and women nearest to the dais turned agog at this
awesome sound and stood with their mouths open but the Gŵyrd of the Carfetau
still argued and yelled at each other, as they were ever war-like and
quarrelsome. Suddenly the great hall was filled with the terrifying sound of a
branch and boulder-filled avalanche of water, crashing over a rocky cliff and
it shook the very air in the hall. All
in it became still and awe-struck, to turn and gaze wide-eyed and terrified at
the Lord Brif-Dewin of Gorddofica as in all his black and silver glory, he had
shown a small chink of his power.
As a truly shocked silence gripped the hall and the bedlam
died in a heart-beat, it was replaced by a dumb-struck awe, reflected on the
faces of all. The noise that issued from Lludd’s open mouth began to abate then
and was soon a calming babbling brook once more. The sound then died away
completely, leaving a stunned audience in the intense stillness of its wake.
The seconds stretched ominously, and rain could be heard dripping from the
thatch, splashing into the ring-ditch outside and every eye was locked to the
fearsome King-Dewin on the dais. Nobody uttered a word and it seemed as though
every soul in this great hall were holding their breath, locked in a kind of
terrified anticipation of the utterly unknown.
Lludd had paled with the effort it had taken and his left
hand found the arm of the chair before he sat, breathing deeply and the tension
in the hall was suddenly released, a hubbub of excited chatter emanating from
these astonished warriors.
“Who will form this Llwgwaed?” Came a low but powerful voice
from a dark corner, in stark contrast to the chattering.
All heads turned to see Queen Morgu, the warrior chieftain of
the infamous Effwrog stronghold of CaerEbor, Capital fortress of the Paurisau
on Breged’s wild eastern borderlands. She stepped forward into the light and
her ruined face was the first thing everyone saw. It had been thus since a Jute
raider had tried to remove her head many years ago. Her lightning reactions at
the time had saved her life and kept her noble head where it belonged but had
left a huge wound to the left side of her mouth. It was still a horror of
twisted pink flesh and her teeth grinned permanently through the folded cicatrices
of her torn mouth. Queen Morgu wore a weathered, much-used armour of a fine old
design and bore the swirling, now faded blue tattoos and iron arm rings of the
warrior but most looked next at the dazzling cape of peacock feathers she wore
over her armour and the myriad colours were bewitching in the firelight,
flashing in rainbow waves as she moved like oil on water.
The enormous gold Torc around her broad neck, was usually the
next focus of people’s attention, as it was a thing of rare and stunning beauty
and carved in the sacred and ancient, flowing style of the honourable Paurisa,
second only to the Eceniau in their creative powers over the noble metals.
The retired but still ferocious Queen clutched a knobbly cane
of hazel in her left hand and shifted her weight with an ugly wince, betraying
the fact that her fighting days were long over but her power and influence
remained and so she had been included in the royal summons, which had
criss-crossed this huge territory of Breged. With just two burly personal
guards in attendance, Queen Morgu had ridden her charger here the twenty or-so
miles south-west to represent her people and she was determined to do just
that.
“I will form the sacred Llwgwaed my honourable Queen Morgu,
gwraig Ebor ap Ebrawc!” Lludd stood once more and bowed deeply and respectfully
to the Matriarch of the formidable Paurisau, who bowed just as deeply in return
in her stilted way.
“We are honoured lord King Lludd ap Beli Mawr.” Morgu replied
neutrally but with respect. “But we may not be in need of such a sacred oath so
soon, if what was just prophesized by the Uati is accurate!” She added with a
horrific scowl and in her strange, musical accent, causing confusion to show on
many of the surrounding faces. “The Roman’s seventh century is not until next
year, as this is the six hundred and ninety-ninth year since the founding of that
great citadel!” She declared, pointing out the inherent problem in the Uati’s
divinations and the Queen of the Paurisau stirred up a swell of consternation
in the hall with her wet and slightly slurred words.
Lludd seemed to have recovered quickly and he turned to
AucHur behind the throne in respect and the Druid nodded his tonsured head in
invitation and assent. Lludd turned back to the Queen and the assembled
Princes, Lords, Chieftains and Gŵyrd of the Bregedian alliance and he raised
his chin.
“I cannot speak for the Gods honourable Queen Morgu, as no
one here can and maybe their reckoning to the foundation of Rome is different
from our own or even the Romans’, who knows but however we humans count these
years, the Gods, our spies and our own common-sense all tell us that General
Gaius Julius Caesar is coming. I can
speak for myself and my people however when I give you my unbroken word, that
all the signs point to Caesar coming this year, whatever its number and close
on the heels of Lughnas and my people are preparing for his arrival.” He
answered as truthfully as he could and bowed again in finality, to the
Paurisian Queen.
This seemed to placate many people in the hall, to many
appreciative nods.
“Clearly we cannot leave our fate to chance and you must
swear the sacred oath of unity before our Gods.” He told them, returning his
focus to the massed warriors on the benches. “I will take your promise to
HênDdu myself and together we will form this great national blood-oath that
must be completed. As the future prophecy you all heard tonight is perhaps the
worst imaginable, yet it is just one such future we may have to face if we do
nothing. There are many possible and we must take action, to strive toward the
future of our own choosing.” He stated boldly, exuding a supreme
self-confidence.
He was forced to take a modest pause here, as the beer logs
began crashing against the tables again and they gave a somewhat erratic tempo
to his chanted name. When the din had subsided enough, Lludd straightened and
continued to address these once violently disparate tribesmen.
“Above all, you the families and combrogi of Breged, must
come together as one people as you have never done before and more! You must join
with Galedon and Albion in this most sacred Triad!” He demanded of them,
continuing his cold scrutiny of the rapt faces before him. “I meet with HênDdu
at Beltain and we will have the sacred words of Llwgwaed ready, for the taking
of your great blood-oath at Lug’s own sacred festival three months later.
Whether it is this year or the next, no General of sane mind would attempt
invasion in winter and we believe the Roman braggart will be kept busy by the
Germanic tribes through this coming spring and most of the summer. But from
this moment on, we must put aside our petty squabbles, feuds and land disputes
and we must open our hearts to those who were once deadly enemy. We must put
the reckoning of lost comrades away and behind us, for this unifying imperative
to succeed and the Llwgwaed must be taken with a pure heart, or the bridge to
the Underworld will be eternally closed to those who break it or take it with a
false heart.” He stated bleakly, and his cold blue eyes glittered with a
ferocious challenge. Satisfied that the most onerous demand had been made and
received without rebellion, Lludd took a deep breath.
There was some head-nodding and a low muttering of agreement
from many sage heads, following these wise but portentous words and Lludd
ploughed-on, knowing he had their undivided attention. He began to speak more
softly now, forcing them to listen yet his soft words carried clearly to the
very front of this great hall. The atmosphere had changed again, and it was now
charged with an electric, vital energy that was entirely infectious, as the
import of tonight’s gathering was only just beginning to sink in for the
majority.
“I truly believe these Roman conquerors are coming to
Prydein, precisely when is another matter but we have all heard the harrowing
tales of our cefnder in Gallia and
elsewhere, how they have been butchered without mercy or let.” Lludd’s voice
began to rise again now. “Many ancient and noble bloodlines have been lost
forever in the slaughter, as these Roman King-killers think they are Gods on
this earth and can do as they please and there is not a grain of mercy in
them!” He said in his amplified voice and all were now nodding and rumbling in
agreement. “We Brythons also know that they are corrupt to the core and the
primary motive of Caesar the wolf of Rome, is to rescue his own ruined
political career and to pay off his massive debts!” A swell of ribald abuse and
lurid scorn rose from the gathered warriors at these base motives and Lludd
nodded his support of their condemnation. “We Prydeinig know from long
experience and history, that the pursuit of greatness always courts failure and
above all things, these Romans are men and men as we all know are fallible!” He
said with feeling in his penetrating voice.
The Gŵyrd of Breged began to beat the table-tops with their
logs again and Lludd let them bang and shout for a minute, before lifting his
silver hand and the silence was almost immediate.
“We have also heard with heavy hearts, how the Arch-Druids
and a few of the leading royal Houses of Gallia called to unite the many
Kingdoms in that great land, to enjoin and together repel Caesar’s red and
silver machine of conquest. The call came from HênDdu himself, with Gallia and
Prydein’s great council of Arch-Druids in complete support but this great and
august body of holy men and women, could not turn this blood-thirsty machine
with their magic, as their foreign Gods are powerful, yet it failed too to
inspire and gain the vital and crucial Galliad Undeb!” Lludd said morosely with
a shake of his head.
AucHur behind him looked uncomfortable at this well-known
disclosure, as he had been present at the huge assembly and the sacred call to
arms and unity in Gallia, but he kept his eyes lowered and his mouth shut, as
Lludd continued without a glance his way.
“The fault lies not in our religion but perhaps in our greed,
as many Kings and Princes in both Gallia and Prydein believed wrongly, that
Caesar would return to Rome when he’d won enough plunder and reputation. Sadly
the truth of the matter is that old habits die hard and so most of Gallia’s
Kings, Princes and nobles used the chaos to manoeuvre for more power, position
or land.” Lludd said in vehement condemnation, allowing a blaze to flash in his
eyes. “Had they achieved unity, no force on this earth could have conquered the
countless warriors of our Galliad combrogi but they squandered the opportunity
to unite and organise themselves properly, leaving the ruling families to do
all the fighting – and the dying! And as we have come to learn, they paid the
ultimate price for their selfish ambitions and those vassal rulers through
their greed, condemned their own werrin to servitude and death.” He finished
darkly, looking sharply at his audience and conveying the import of his words,
by his indomitable will and the implacable look on his hard face.
He knew he had them in the palm of his hand now and every
person in this great hall hung on each word, as if they were links of pure
silver, dropping from the heavens.
“This will not happen in Prydein!” Lludd Llaw Ereint declared
sternly. “This will not happen in Prydein!” He repeated with a roar, allowing
more power to swell his voice for these six words and they echoed around the
hall as if imbued with a life and a demanding voice of their own. The warriors
of Breged roared back, hammering the tables once more in shared covenant, their
faces flushed with the emotions building in them.
“This land is the sacred birthplace of our culture and the
crucible of our religion, as we all know.” He continued as the noise abated.
“Countless centuries, all piled one on top of another and we must honour the
memory of our innumerable ancestors, those who gave their lives so that we
could live ours.” Lludd told them more sombrely but then stood more erect and
looked around, catching again the eyes of the familiar veterans before him. “We
will make this sacred triad of the
three great tribes of Northern Prydein! We will honour our ancestors and show
them that their blood still runs red and hot in these veins!” He shook his
muscular sword-arm, his voice rising again now, and the volume increased as his
warrior-spirit awakened. “Your esteemed Houses will come together and then join
my sacred host of Cymbric Nations, as we have already signed our Llwgwaed in
our own hot blood. The war-drums in the mountains and the valleys are beating
loud and our Druids are dancing in their groves, as the Cymbri are preparing
for war!” He boomed, and the raucous hammering of logs erupted once more, many
wooden vessels being smashed in the celebration of these soaring spirits and
the unstoppable outpouring of emotional synchronicity, beer, suds and pieces of
wet timber flying everywhere.
Bellnor placed his hand on Lludd’s right shoulder and nodded
in encouragement, as Lludd gave pause for these demonstrations once more. The
two Kings embraced again, and both drank deep from their cups, their faces
animated. Lludd turned back to the hall and when some order was restored, he
took another deep breath before continuing seriously.
“Every man, woman and child will be bound to this great
national Llwgwaed and if the flashing, killing blades of Prydein join as one,
we will offer this bold Caesar such a dread butchery, that he nor any other
Roman braggart will ever have the audacity to test the steel of Undeb Prydein
again! The world will know, that the Prydeinig have come together and that we
are united at last and the mighty Brythons will endure until the end of days!
May the Gods Allow!” He ended powerfully with the ubiquitous plea and the great
hall erupted with the bellowed response.
‘May the Gods Allow!’
Pandemonium broke out then and all hope of order was gone for
some time, as the conversations and discourses were electrifying, as their
import and possible consequences were now intimately known by all present. The
overall atmosphere between these disparate tribes was finally one of accord and
experienced, wise heads which had once plotted tribal internecine massacre,
were now bent in allied discussion about the most portentous possible events in
all Prydein’s long and ancient history.
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