Britannia Resurgent

[Rufus]

The following is a translation of a recently discovered medieval Welsh manuscript. It was found in a previously unknown underground stone chamber of Castell Dinas Bran.

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May our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ bless these chronicles, written to glorify Him and to record the achievements of His servant, the Prince of Cymru, who through God’s grace fought to unite the Britons and reclaim their rightful sovereignty over this ancient island kingdom.

I, Brother Mattheus ap Iago, of the Abbey of Llangurig, have started this journal on New Years Day, the year of our Lord 794, on my own accord. Having accompanied my Prince, Caradoc ap Philip, on his travels this past year, I realized I was bearing witness to great events of far-reaching consequence. I knew I would do a disservice to future generations, to my Prince, and to our God who guides him if I failed to record this new chapter in the story of our people.

It has been my pleasure to serve Prince Caradoc as teacher, adviser and friend for these twenty years past. His father, Prince Philip ap Caradoc, placed him in the care of the monks of Llangurig when he was a boy. His father cared deeply about his son’s education. And young Caradoc did well enough in his studies that my brother monks and I looked forward to his reign without too much trepidation. (I must say it was also clear, however, that the contemplative life was not for him, so thanks be to God that government is Caradoc’s calling and not the cloth)

I might anticipate there are those who might question the veracity of these writings, given my long relationship with our Prince. I would say this: I did approach Prince Caradoc to request his permission to start this journal. And I admit, I did offer him the opportunity to approve each entry. My friendship with him is too valuable to sacrifice, even for such an endeavour as this. The Prince said, “Mattheaus, do you remember when I was your student, and you taught me of King Arthur?”

“Of course,” I replied.

“We read the old poems and all the ballads the bards sing at court, and I found them all captivating. Arthur was my hero. He still is.” The Prince smiled wistfully and continued, “But when I was a little older, and you taught me the history of our country, you said there is precious little we know for certain of Arthur’s life. You said we know every detail about the lives of the Caesars because they had men to record their stories, but little more than legend and tradition for our own Arthur.”

The Prince placed his hands on my shoulders and looked sternly into my eyes. “I am going to accomplish great things, Mattheaus. I am going to unite our people and take back our lands. And I don’t want my children’s children to wonder what really happened. Write everything down, Mattheaus. Everything. And I don’t want to see a word of it, because I want no one to doubt that you told the truth.”

Prince Caradoc said he had but one request, that I write this in Cymry and not in Latin, so that the story of the Britons’ resurgence is in the Britons’ native tongue.

My story of the origin of this journal gives you, dear reader, an introduction to the personality of Prince Caradoc. He is ambitious, bold and decisive, regrets little and apologizes for nothing. He is aware of what he sees as his place in history. In appearance he resembles his personality. He is taller than most, quite strong from years on the battlefield, and has a full head of brown hair and moustache that has not yet started to gray. He is 30 years old and has just recently become Prince. He is married to Gwendolyn of Clwyd, and he has three children: Conan, age 15, the heir; Mary, age 14; and Caradoc age 3. I have taught the Prince’s children as I taught him, and they are quite astute. Conan has shown tendencies toward hubris, however, and I fear he may be easily manipulated by those who flatter him, unless these traits are corrected.

The Prince is not impious; I believe he fears God but I do wish he would pray more often for God’s guidance. Although the Saxons took our lands, we helped save their souls back when they still worshipped their pagan idols. It would be a terrible mistake for our people – long a beacon of light for the Church in dark times – to forsake God now.

Forgive me, dear reader, for digressing but I cannot disguise my apprehension at what lies ahead. You will understand after reading further about recent events. But first you must understand how things came to be the way they are.

Our people have inhabited this island since time immemorial. Our pagan forefathers fought fiercely against the Roman invaders in the decades following our Savior’s birth, but eventually settled in under Roman rule. Britons adopted Roman ways to varying degrees, far more so in the east and south than in present-day Cymru, but thanks be to God that our Lord’s Church knew no boundaries in Britain. After four centuries of governance here, the Romans withdrew their legions as their empire collapsed, and the Britons had to defend their homes against the pagan Angles and Saxons from Germannia and our barbarian cousins, the Pictish and Irish raiders.

Over many, many years, the Angles and Saxons established kingdoms in the Lloegyr, our lost lands, and our people were pushed into the west and southwest. We started to call ourselves Cymry, and our country Cymru. The Cymry fought continuously amongst themselves and with the Angles and Saxons.

Prince Caradoc’s father, Prince Philip ap Caradoc, made the unification of our people possible. He inherited his father’s throne as the Prince of Pouis 34 years ago. At this time Pouis was one of six major Cymry kingdoms, the others being Gwynedd, Clywd, Guent, Defet, and Cerniu (isolated on the southwest peninsula). The Prince of Cerniu, Iorwerth ap Maredudd, was very aged, nearly 80 years old, and both his sons had gone before him in death. He had no male heirs, only granddaughters. Unlike the Saxons the Britons have long respected the right of a woman to inherit property and title. However, the Prince of Cerniu was concerned that his granddaughter would offer a tempting target for the Saxon Earl of Defnas to the east. Cerniu was isolated and needed a strong ally. He sent for the young Prince of Pouis, who was greeted in Cerniu’s palace courtyard by a servant girl. Expecting the Prince to take offense at a greeting from a servant, the girl was shocked to find Philip the picture of grace and courtesy. But the bigger shock was for Philip, when the girl revealed herself to be Gwenllian verch Madog, Iorwerth’s granddaughter. The Princess was testing Philip’s character and he passed the test with ease. Iorwerth had died a few nights before, but Pouis and Cerniu were united in a lavish wedding ceremony. After saying their vows, Gwenllian removed a small chain from her neck. On it hung a gold ring encrusted with rubies. She removed the ring from the chain and placed it on Philip’s finger, telling him it belonged to King Arthur, from whom, according to legend, her royal house descends. Legend also has it that Arthur acted from beyond the grave to ensure a female heir for Iorwerth, as the union of Cerniu and Pouis was the genesis for the resurgence of Arthur's people. But I will leave it to you, dear reader, to judge the validity of that story

Caradoc was born to Philip and Gwenllian within a year. I was privileged to witness the birth of the young prince in Llangurig. But Princess Gwenllian died in childbirth when another boy, Iorwerth, was born a few years later. Although Philip's heart shattered with the death of his bride, he was determined to forge a secure future for his sons. He planned to will Pouis to Caradoc and Cerniu to Iorwerth but rejected advice to have the boys raised entirely in the lands they would eventually inherit. He strove to keep the boys together and have them spend equal time in both provinces, fearing an early separation would doom them to a lifetime of conflict. The boys fought as boys do, but with Iorwerth there always seemed a darker shade to the envy he harboured of his elder brother.
Philip looked to the east and saw ravenous wolves in the Angle and Saxon kingdoms. Philip tried to assemble a unified Cymry force to resist incursions from Mercia and Wessex. The Princes of Clywd and Guent allied with Philip, as they too bordered the Anglo-Saxons and saw the value of a unified front. The Prince of Guent arranged the marriage of his daughter Gwladys to Philip's son Caradoc, with Caradoc to inherit title to one-third of Guent's land as Gwladys' dowry. (The Prince of Clywd had no daughter to offer for Iorwerth.) The Princes of the west coast provinces of Gwynedd and Defet balked at the alliance proposal, claiming they were too busy defending against Irish and Norse raiders. They also suspected Philip harboured greater ambitions.
Having only a few score professional soldiers in his army, Philip personally rode throughout the mountainous countryside of Clywd and Pouis and down to the shores of Guent, urging villagers to take up arms against the Saxon threat. Those villages that refused to send men were told they would not be protected. Most villages had first-hand experience of Saxon treachery, however, and men volunteered in droves. With his recruitment rides throughout Cymru, Philip became as well-known and liked in Clywd and Guent as he was in Pouis.
By 775, Philip and his allies of Clwyd and Guent had assembled an army of more than five-hundred men, but they all required training. The Prince of Clwyd urged training in the Saxon ways of war but Philip said, These men will fight the way their fathers fought. The men were trained not only in swordsmanship, use of a spear and archery, they were also trained to ambush the enemy and take advantage of Cymru's hilly, forested terrain.
On October 12, 778, a minor Saxon lord named Edwig brought five score men into the mountains of Pouis. He had heard about a new copper mine and wished to lay claim to it based on a long-since discredited pact. Philip heard about this impending invasion from a peasant on Edwig's land whose mother was Cymry and who rode through the night to alert him. He assembled his army and awaited Edwig along the main road through the mountains. Philip's army executed a perfect ambush, showering the Saxons with arrows before the Saxons even knew they weren't alone. The Saxons then saw dozens of crazed warriors, woad-painted in the old Celtic way, screaming and emerging from the woods. They turned and fled back to Mercia.
This skirmish ignited a border war with Mercia that lasted a decade. Baffled by the Cymry ability to hide and strike in the mountains, the Mercians made no successful incursions into Cymry lands. But the Cymry force was too small to assault the fortifications of the Mercian lands. In 789, Philip and his allies of Clwyd and Guent agreed to meet with King Offa of Mercia to negotiate a settlement. A firm border was established, marked by a long canal built at Mercian expense. No Cymry suffered Mercian raids for the remainder of Philip's reign.
The Princes of Clywd and Guent recognized Philip's power. The army he had raised for the Mercian war took most of its men from Pouis, and even most of those from Clywd and Guent felt a stronger alleigance to Philip than to their own country's prince. Realizing that peace with Mercia would last only as long as the border Cymry remained united, Philip in 790 asked the Princes of Clywd and Guent to swear fealty to him and recognize him as Prince of all Cymru. They did so, but most Cymry nobles assumed the two princes' loyalties to Philip would only last as long as the peace and prosperity of the realm. Again, Gwynedd and Defet refused to submit to Philip's authority.
At the public ceremony of fealty, after he was anointed by Bishop Rhys of Llangurig, Philip shocked the assembled nobles, and his sons, by announcing he was disregarding the ancient Cymry custom of Gavelkind - distribution of a father's lands among all his sons. Philip said he regarded himself not only as Prince of Cymru but also the eventual High King of Britain, God willing, who would restore the sovereignty of Arthur's people over the whole island realm. Now that the Cymry - the Britons - had a strong army that had stopped Anglo-Saxon incursions, it would be disastrous to divide the realm and waste this opportunity to reclaim Britain's glory. Philip granted the title of Prince of Cerniu to Iorwerth, and had Bishop Rhys anoint him. And he announced that Caradoc would be High King-in-waiting, heir to the throne of the whole realm, rather than Prince of Pouis. Philip designated a nephew, Deheuwarch ap William, as Pouis' new lord. This man, along with Iorwerth and the Princes of Clwyd and Guent, pledged fealty to Philip and to Caradoc as his chosen heir.
Cymry nobles were astonished at Philip's boldness. Some thought the aging ruler had let the cult of Arthur addle his mind. But none felt strong enough to challenge him - save the lords of Gwynedd and Defet on the western coast. They had been counting on Philip's minor empire dissolving after being divided between his two sons, but now they were alarmed at Philip's assertion of authority and disregard for ancient inheritance law. They both attacked Pouis starting in April 791, torching homes, churches and stockades on their way to Llangurig. Philip divided his army in two, taking two hundred men north with him to face the men of Gwynedd, and sending Caradoc south with two hundred to confront the Defet rebels (He had already sent Iorwerth to Cerniu). Philip and Caradoc repelled the rebels' invasion and secured Pouis. But when they pursued the rebels back into Gwynedd and Defet - largely unknown territory for them - they often fell victim to the same mountain ambush tactics they had used to great effect against the Mercians. Moreover, Philip's army had been depleted of veterans during the Mercian war, and many of his men were new and hastily trained.
On December 1, 793, Philip landed a force of 105 men on the Gwynedd coast to launch a surprise sea attack. In the dead of night they crept inland toward some thick woods where they knew a large Gwynedd encampment lay. Philip had been betrayed, though, by one of his lieutenants, who warned the Prince of Gwynedd of the invasion in exchange for a bribe. The Gwynedd camp was ready for Philip's army and far outnumbered them. Philip called for retreat back to the beach where he hoped to reload his men onto the ships and escape, but he found the boats in flames. His men fought the pursuing Gwynedd troops valiantly on the beach, but by noon all of Philip's men were lying dead in the icy waters. Prince Philip was put in chains and brought to the court of Gwynedd.
Behold, the new King Arthur laughed Davydd ap Goronwy, Prince of Gwynedd. Now, let us see where we might find him a round table and a crown ... Arggh Davydd's tone of mocking satisfaction turned to outrage after Philip spat on him.
I swear to you, traitorous scum, that my son will avenge me and you will know naught but pain and humiliation, Philip said. You had your chance to be part of the new glory for Britain, and you spat on it. Today I return the favor.
Davydd's round face turned bright red and he demanded his sword. Although diminutive he was quite strong, and he severed Philip's head with a single, swift stroke. He pulled the ruby ring of Arthur off of Philip's finger and hurled it out the window of the tower.
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To be continued ...

[Ludens]

Wel done, Rufus. An interesting chronicle. But I guess this is the end of your German tale.

[Rufus]

Thanks Yeah, sorry, I pulled the plug on the German story. It was based on a campaign in easy - my first regular MTW campaign - and it quickly became clear the campaign wouldn't make for an interesting story, as I swept across Europe virtually unchallenged. Plus I know far less about medieval Germany than the history of the British Isles (not that that's saying much ...). And though I found the novel writing style to be rewarding, it's very time-consuming. Maybe I'll try it again but just as a short story rather than covering a full campaign. Anyway, I definitely expect to finish this one, but it might not be till August, when I have most of the month off.

Thanks for reading

[Rufus]

The chronicle continues ....

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A young warrior in the Guined army named Idwal ap Rhys was standing in the inner bailey of the castle listening to the turmoil in the tower above. He was startled by the sudden silence that followed the execution of Prince Philip, but even more so by what fell to his feet from the tower window. Idwal picked up the Arthur ring and examined it in the torchlight. His mother had grown up in Cerniu and told him the stories of Arthur, including that of the legendary king’s ring. Disregarding his obligation to the lord of Gwynedd, who had drafted him along with every other boy of his village, Idwal pocketed the ring, saddled a horse and rode hard for Llangurig.

Several days later, the weary young man arrived at the great hall of Llangurig. Prince Philip’s household was buzzing with concern over their liege’s fate in Gwynedd. I watched as Idwal showed the ring to the guards, who let the youth pass in silent astonishment. Prince Caradoc was on the dais, hovering over a map with his generals, when Idwal approached him, knelt and placed the ring on the table. “I am deeply sorry, my liege,” he said, “and I humbly offer my sword in service to you to avenge your lord father.”

Caradoc was silent for what seemed like hours. Suddenly he flew into a rage, splitting the great oak table with his sword. He turned to Idwal and swung at him, but the young man dodged the blade just in time. I ran over to my new Prince and implored him, “For the love of Christ, stop My liege, this boy has pledged himself to you. Without him, we never would have heard about your father until the armies of Gwynedd were on our doorstep”

Caradoc stopped and caught his breath. He abruptly departed the hall in solitude and silence, taking with him his father’s ring.

Hours later he emerged from his chambers, announced a week of mourning and called a council for the next day. He asked me to sit in on the council.

Prince Caradoc fervently wished to strike back immediately in Gwynedd. Having spoken with young Idwal the night before, I knew Gwynedd’s armies were great, with hundreds of fiercely loyal warriors. I also knew the Norsemen lurked in the waters to the west, and a weaker foe could be awaiting us in Gwynedd if the Vikings strike them first. I made those points to the prince and his generals and argued for an alternative strategy.

“We ought first to isolate Gwynedd by taking control of Defet. Then, a united force coming from the south is our best hope. We also must unite our country. Cerniu does us no good separated by miles of Saxon territory. Either we forsake it, or take the Saxon lands in between.”

Einion ap Madog, Prince of Clywd, was baffled. “Are you daft, monk? Take on the Saxons whilst we Cymry still fight amongst ourselves? I’ll not leave my lands exposed to a Mercian or Northumbrian attack while we go on this fool’s errand to the south.”

Prince Caradoc intervened. “That’s precisely why Brother Mattheus’ strategy is the right one. If we can bring our forces from Guent and Cerniu together in the south, we can leave your lands to the north well-garrisoned.”

Then he turned to me, his eyes dark as pitch. “I do want desperately to set all of Gwynedd aflame. But you are quite right, Brother Mattheus. We ought not take Gwynedd till we can hold it. They will not submit meekly. And as for the Saxons, they will underestimate us. King Behrtric still craves the Mercian crown – he will be too preoccupied with that quest and defending his coast from the Northmen to pay us much heed.” Caradoc stood, his voice rising. “Behrtric thinks we’re savages, still sees us as a weak, conquered people We know Guent’s bowmen are the best in Britain We know the wild mountain fury of our warriors But the foreigners in the Lleogyr – our lost lands – have forgotten, because we’ve been fighting amongst ourselves for so long.” Caradoc held aloft his father’s Arthur ring. “That’s about to end And a rebirth of our people, the rightful rulers of Britain, is about to begin”

The generals, roused by their Prince’s rally cry, rose to their feet, shouting and cheering, calling for vengeance for Philip and blood from the Saxons. Caradoc ordered a courier to Cerniu to deliver orders to his brother, Prince Iowerth. Iorwerth was to prepare companies of at least three score archers and two hundred spearmen and then take them into Defnas, the Saxon land to the east, within a year. During that time, Caradoc would train his men hard and then subdue the holdouts in Defet. Caradoc’s ambitious goal was to have six score archers and two hundred spearmen and warriors fully trained and at his command for the invasion of Defet. He asked me to join him so I could document the events.

A week later Caradoc was crowned Prince of Cymru to succeed his father. His Conan was anointed Crown Prince. Immediately after the ceremony, Caradoc ordered his son to oversee the assembly of his forces and their training and preparation for departure. Caradoc’s wife Gwendolyn, daughter of the Prince of Clywd, hid well her fear and sadness. Gwendolyn is Caradoc’s second wife; his first, Gwladys of Guent, was the mother of Prince Conan and died giving birth to Princess Mary. Mary, for all her adolescent defiance, could not help shedding tears at the prospect of her father and brother going off to battle at the same time. Caradoc’s namesake, a three-year-old boy and his only child so far with Gwendolyn, became sullen and withdrawn.

Caradoc and Gwladys were hardly out of childhood when Conan was born. The boy has taken after his father in his early start to parenthood. He had a young woman and baby daughter of his own to bid him farewell, but it pains me to admit his union took place outside the holy sacrament of marriage. It was yet another indication of Conan’s refusal to bend his will to anyone else’s, even to God’s. At least he has always been charitable to his child and her mother. There may yet be hope for him.

This completes my inaugural entry into this chronicle. Should I live to tell about it, the invasion of Defet will be the topic of my next writing.


April 10, 795

Ten weeks after his coronation, Prince Caradoc brought his forces to the western shore to confront the men of Defet. He found the rebels awaiting his attack on a steep hill near the coast. Caradoc ordered his men to climb the hill but in a perpendicular arrangement to the rebels. Undeterred by the cold, driving rain, our archers killed dozens of the rebel militia. Outnumbered, outflanked and outmatched, the rebels soon fled the field. Nearly all of the 220 rebels were captured or killed. We lost 56 men.

Prince Caradoc named Rhodri ap Llewelyn, the commander of the archers, the new Prince of Defet. He sent Prince Conan to Llangurig to oversee the administration of the realm for the following year while he is out on campaign. Conan balked at leaving the battlefield for such tedious tasks but had no choice but to obey his father. I am still traveling with Prince Caradoc (we are now encamped near the coast in Guent) but I hear that Prince Conan is proving to be an astute administrator. He has ensured that his father’s plans are executed in a timely fashion; several mines are already nearing completion. With poor farming land and few goods for trade, the riches of the mountains are our people’s only source of wealth. Clywd’s copper, Pouis’ silver, Defet’s gold and Cerniu’s silver will sustain us until the rich farmland of the Saxons is within our grasp.

A few weeks after our victory in Defet, we received news from Defnas. Prince Iorwerth reported that the Saxons would not even face him on the field of battle, retreating immediately to their quarters. He spent the next year subduing the countryside and then with the break of spring this year, he assaulted the Saxons at their base in Cridiantum. The Saxons were slaughtered to a man, and 46 Cymry gave their lives in the fight. As in Defet, the Cymry archers played the principle role in this victory, and Prince Caradoc awarded the title of the province to the archer commander Llewelyn ap Hywel.

I have heard that Defnas’ horse farms produce the finest steeds in Britain and will greatly improve the quality of our cavalry.

Tonight I approached Prince Caradoc to consult with him on strategy.

“Brother Mattheaus, we need only Sumorseate to bring together the two wings of the Cymry realm,” he said, pointing to a map. “My brother and I will attack Sumorseate together, me from Guent and him from Defnas. I’m hearing rumors that make me want to keep my brother on a short leash. At the same time I will send Conan north with 160 warriors and archers to confront the rebels in Gwynedd once and for all.”

“My lord, I know I recommended this strategy, but I did not expect you to move so quickly We have certainly caught the Saxons’ attention now and are sure to be outnumbered in Sumorseate. What’s more, will 160 men be enough for Conan in Gwynedd? Why not wait a couple of years, train more men?”

The Prince laughed. “Brother Mattheaus, ye of little faith A swift strike is the crux of our strategy If the Saxons outnumber us now, imagine how much greater our disadvantage in a few years The Saxons can produce troops far more quickly than we can. And if we strike soon, the Saxon troops we face will be green, no match for our hardened warriors, even if we are outnumbered As for Conan, I saw enough of his ability at Defet to have confidence in his command abilities. Gwynedd’s subjugation is long overdue and he can handle the task of avenging his grandfather.”

“My lord, I take from your tone the warriors of Gwynedd will not be spared the full wrath of your army?”

“You are quite astute, Brother Mattheus. I know you’ll hate to hear this, but I have told Conan to unleash the full fury of the army. No prisoners shall live. No man the slightest bit loyal to that bastard who killed my father will see another sunrise. After the battle’s won Conan will search every town and village for loyalists and have them hung as examples.”

“My lord, that will not bring your father back.”

“No. But all my subjects will learn a good lesson from Gwynedd’s pain.”

“You might just incite them to rebel again.”

“My decision is made. I leave on the morrow for Llangurig to meet with my son. I shall return in three weeks.”

At that Prince Caradoc bid me good night, and I bid him Godspeed. I shall pray ever the more fervently for his soul. I fear that for all he gains on the field of battle, he loses so much more in the eyes of God.


December 26, 796

Two weeks ago, Prince Caradoc and his brother Iorwerth joined forces to attack the Saxons at Sumorseate, just as Caradoc had planned. The 300 Cymry archers, horsemen, swordsmen and spearmen faced Saxon spearmen, archers and horsemen numbering more than 400. The Saxon spearmen included warriors called fyrdmen – freemen who left their farms to fight for their liege. To my surprise the Saxon force included none of the fearsome huscarles I’d heard about. By the stories told of their exploits, the Saxon huscarles must have shed rivers of blood with their axes. The Saxons may have let their armies grow soft since the days of King Arthur, if their armies no longer include these terrifying warriors. Perhaps they will begin training huscarles again, now that war is upon them.

At dawn, the day of the battle, Caradoc knew his men would be fearful when they saw the larger Saxon force. To get their spirits up, he ordered the warriors to coat themselves in woad paint, in the old Celtic tradition, and to ignore the cold and snow and go into battle bare-chested. He assembled them in a snow-coated field, mounted his horse and called out to them: “You have fought with me in Defet. You have come from Cerniu with my brother. You have come together, like our people, and here on this field of battle you will forge the destiny of our people For the first time since Arthur was our king, our people are one. Our armies are one. And here we stand, on the doorstep of the Lleogyr, prepared to bleed and die for the birthright of Britain We will be outnumbered today. We will be outnumbered tomorrow. But we have something our enemies lack – four centuries of rage, four centuries of pain that have earned us our right to take back this island For four centuries the Saxons have divided us, preyed upon us, pushed us into the mountains. We have returned, and they will know our pain On your shoulders are the hopes and dreams of our ancestors. In your hands is the destiny of our people. In your hearts lies the triumph of a new day”

The men cheered wildly and pounded their spears on their shields. Caradoc led them forward to meet the enemy, and they kept screaming as they marched.

It was clear the Saxons were shaken by this wild display. They had taken a position on a snowy hill, and Caradoc led his army up the hill but almost 200 yards to the Saxons’ right. Caradoc had the spearmen march in front, shielding the archers behind, with woad-painted swordsmen on the flanks and horsemen to the right. Edgar, the Saxon commander, showed his inexperience by failing to reform his lines to respond to Caradoc’s formation. He ordered his archers to shoot at our men as they came into range but did not turn most of his other forces to face Caradoc’s men. Then, incredibly, Edgar yielded the height advantage before Caradoc reached his destination, charging at Caradoc’s men as the Cymry approached. Caradoc held his archers back, peppering the Saxon fyrdmen with arrows while holding fast to keep spearmen on the front lines to withstand the unexpected Saxon assault. Meanwhile, Caradoc sent his swordsmen further up the hill to turn and attack the Saxons from the rear, and his horsemen were sent off to run down the Saxon archers. Soon most of Caradoc’s men were actually higher on the hill than the Saxons Caradoc’s archers stayed protected and the Saxons began to flee as the hail of arrows failed to dissipate. Our woad-painted warriors sliced through the fyrdmen ranks from the rear, above them on the hill. To terrify the Saxons and break their ranks, Caradoc ordered the execution of 50 Saxons who had surrendered. Soon the rest of the Saxon force was on the run. But only about 100 Saxons escaped to their stronghold in Cheddar. In addition to the 50 executed prisoners, 280 Saxons fell in battle. We lost 72 Cymry that day.

After we buried our dead, I joined Caradoc’s household for the trip home to Llangurig. There we hoped to find Prince Conan with news of his attack on Gwynedd.

The bloodshed I had witnessed troubled me. The Saxon fyrdmen were like our own warriors – common men fighting for their liege lord – but in their case they were fighting to defend their home. Of course, we see it as our ancestral home, but the wars of King Arthur’s time in centuries past mean little to a man who simply wants to get home to his family. Nevertheless, the Saxon warlords for whom the fyrdmen died had spent years raiding and plundering our border villages. Had we not expanded our realm, it would have only been a matter of time before the Saxons felt strong enough to stage a full assault on our deeper mountain redoubts. Our people had to take the battle to the Saxons in order to survive.

As we passed the Abbey of Glastonbury, I asked Prince Caradoc if we could pause there. He agreed, and I headed for the sanctuary to pray on these troubling thoughts. I passed the Holy Thorn of Glastonbury, noting that the miraculous shrub had not yet bloomed for Christmas. This hawthorn has bloomed every Christmas and every spring for nearly 800 years. Joseph of Arimethea came here after the resurrection of our Savior to spread the Gospel to our people. The hawthorn grew from Joseph’s staff, which he had thrust into the earth.

As I knelt in prayer in the sanctuary, I was surprised to see Prince Caradoc enter. He knelt with me for a while, then lit a candle and left. I saw him outside after I finished. He was standing by the Holy Thorn, and to my amazement, it had just bloomed while I was in the sanctuary.

“It’s blooming a little early this year,” Caradoc said to me.

“Yes. Well perhaps it’s a sign our prayers are answered.”

“I prayed for old King Arthur – they say he and Guinevere are buried here, you know – that I might have his strength in our fight against the Saxons.”

“Did you ask God’s blessing for our people, and our struggle?” I asked my former pupil.

Caradoc grinned and said, “Yes.”

“Did you ask God’s forgiveness for executing those prisoners?”

Caradoc’s face darkened. I steeled myself for a furious rebuke. To my surprise, Caradoc’s head bowed and he said, “Yes. Yes, I did. It was unnecessary. I find myself swept up in the battle and the rage and the bloodshed.”

We remained silent for a moment. Then the Prince asked me, “What did you pray for, Brother Mattheus?”

I smiled and placed my hand on his shoulder. “Reassurance. And my prayers have already been answered.”

On December 22, we arrived home to Llangurig. The town was in a celebratory mood, and we soon discovered that Prince Conan was home safe, fresh from victory. We found him in the great hall regaling a rapt crowd with stories of the Battle of Gwynedd. Dozens of Cymry nobles were mingling as bards sang songs of victories new and old. I noticed Conan’s concubine Wynne at the back of the hall, again great with child and holding an infant as their toddler daughter stood nearby.

“Father” Conan exclaimed as Caradoc entered the hall. “Wynne, bring the girls over” Caradoc’s eyes widened at the approach of his son’s brood.

“Father, Arwen was not yet born when you were last here.” The crowd chuckled as the infant pulled at Conan’s mustache. “Bronwyn has also grown quite a bit since you last saw her.”

Caradoc’s face yielded a small grin. “I’m delighted to see them. Now tell me of the battle.” As the men walked off discussing the events in Gwynedd, Wynne, furious at Caradoc’s indifference to her children, stormed out of the hall.

“Father, it was a glorious triumph. I maneuvered my ranks to force the rebels to turn, and soon enough had taken the high ground from them One-hundred twenty of the 160 rebel fighters were captured or killed, and we executed all captives, just as you commanded.”

“And what of Davydd ap Goronwy? What of the whoreson who murdered my father?”

Conan grinned. “He was caught fleeing the field. I took off his head myself. It now overlooks the gate of the fort.”

Caradoc savored the satisfaction of vengeance but did not smile. After a short pause he asked, “How many of your men survived?”

Conan cleared his throat. “Eighty.”

“Son, I would hardly call it a glorious triumph if half our men died and let 40 enemy soldiers escape.”

“Father, they did hold the high ground for a while at first, and our men walked into a storm of arrows.”

“Conan, we will discuss this more later. I have more to teach you before I send you back out to keep the peace in Gwynedd. You did well, but not well enough. There will be more rebellions there, believe me, and you must be ready.” Caradoc patted his son on the shoulder.

Conan stopped his father as Caradoc was starting to walk away. “Father, one last thing. I brought back with me Master Idwal ap Rhys. You do remember him?”

Caradoc’s gaze softened when he saw the young man who brought his father’s ring back to him.

“Father, Idwal distinguished himself valiantly on the field. He slew 15 rebels and captured 12 more. I cannot imagine a better candidate for the lordship of Gwynedd than this man.”

Idwal knelt. Caradoc motioned him upward, saying, “There are few who have suffered more undeservingly at my hand than you, young man. You are indeed more than fit to be Prince of Gwynedd. I trust you will run this province far more honorably than your former master did.”

Idwal was overcome with gratitude. He knelt again. “My eternal thanks, my liege.”

Caradoc suddenly saw his wife emerge from a back chamber. Six-year-old Caradoc trailed behind, and two-year-old Alice and infant Iago were in the arms of the nurse Brodwen. The Prince rushed over and embraced his young wife and their family.

“Mary is on her way to the Mercian court?” Caradoc asked.

“Yes,” Gwendolyn replied. “She put up quite a fit, being sent to a foreign land to be considered for marriage to a man 10 years her senior.”

“I do wish I’d been able to talk to her about it directly,” Caradoc said. “There was no time, with the campaign against the Saxons. King Offa has not always been a friend to our people but we could use his support against the Saxons. I hope Mary understands some day.”

“I hope so too,” Gwendolyn replied. As the celebrations continued in the great hall, the royal family departed through a back door to enjoy their reunion privately.

[Ludens]

I don't understand why there aren't more replies to this. It is not as if you are a bad writer. I guess the subject is rather uninviting and the characters are uninteresting, which are traditional failings of campaign write ups.

Therefor, I think you should pay more attention to the characters. The victory party was already a step in the right direction. If you can get an intrigue going at the court, the story will be more interesting. Off course, this means that it will get less attached to what happens in-game.
More attention to characters will also remove the story from the chronicle-style which you started with, but I think that you are already doing that.

About Glastonbury: that's a joke, right? They didn't 'discover' that Arthur's grave was there until the year 1191. And the bit about Josef of Arimathea is of an even later date.

Anyway, good luck writing more https://forums.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif .

[Rufus]

Thanks, Ludens. I will work on character development more. As Caradoc's children grow up, I think there will definitely be opportunities for court intrigue

As for Glastonbury, I didn't know those legends postdated the VI era. Oh well - we can pretend they were around for this story, I guess

[skullbone]

I really like your story. It's good the way you lead the readers into the story and have some development on the characters, which I personal think more is needed. Keep up the good work. https://forums.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif