Britannia Hotseat Story Thread

[phonicsmonkey]

Turn 20

King Domnall sat atop his charger on the rocky beach, looking out over the slate-grey sea at the distant fog-enshrouded mountaintops of the Scottish Highlands.

The Norse War had been long and hard, and there was no guarantee that even now it was coming to an end.

Many Irish lives had been lost since the Triple Alliance of England, Scotland and Ireland vowed to drive the Vikings from the British Isles.

At first it had seemed like it would be quick work to send the bearded men back to the North from whence they came; first the Isle of Man, then Islay, then Mull and Stornoway had fallen to the allied forces.

But the Norse had fought back tenaciously in the heartlands of Scotland, taking Inverness, Inverlochy, Wick and Stirling from the Scots, who died by the score upon the cruel blades of their rough-hewn battleaxes.

For a time it had seemed like Scotland would cease to be, as first King Alexander and then his successor King Patrick had fallen in battle vainly defending Scottish soil, plunging the Scottish leadership into political turmoil.

Domnall could hardly recall the face of the latest Scottish king (Donald?) although he knew they had met and hunted grouse together as boys at Balmoral when his late father King Brian had paid a visit of state to the Scots.

Father, he thought, if only you had seen your murderer Knud brought to his end, friendless and alone in a miserable fen after falling out with King Haakon and taking to the woods with his men, executed by his own people as a common bandit.

He shook his head to clear it and brought his thoughts back to the present situation.

With the Welsh joining the war and the Norse armies skulking in the forests, the net seemed to be tightening around old King Haakon..

A boy trotted up on a small, sturdy pony, clutching a scroll sealed with wax.

"Your highness Sir, news from the front!"