Mynydd Badon

[waveman]

Ave, this is going to be a shorter piece that I'm starting due to it being testing season once again. So here it is

MYNYDD BADON

This story will be told in first person from around 12 pov's with a segment for each one at every part of the day that I choose, more pics to come once stuff starts happening

Iron courage, wisdom's years,
Youth's fury, the hand of vengeance
Winged horsemen, on thundering ground
Rippling banners streaming proud
Pendants stained red with Saxon blood
Blood of the dragon, Pendragon's banner.


At the hill Arthwyr,
Dux Britannae,
With silver sword,
Mail of gold,
Lightened helm,
A host behind him,
the Cymri.
Brothers in war, fearsome
In defense of land,
Thickened hides,
A forest of spears,
Made their way to Mynyyd Baddon.


Before them Sigehelm
Of the invaders, forty-four years
Of righteous curse,
One year of forty-four
A year of fire boldly reflected
In Spear-points
A year of fire in their eyes
A wall of wood on their left
Beyond: a wall of wood
Hastened by the dragon's coming
Untrue, on the earth,
A transferred forest
Waiting for the rain of blood

Characters, Saxon:
Oswi: high-middling warrior in Sigehelm's war-band
Deorwine: high-ranking warror
Ethelbrigt: middling warrior, elder brother to
Sebbi: youth on first raid
Beortred: Another young warrior


Characters, Briton:
Argyle: Of Dyfed, spearman descended from Irish
Bevyn: Spearman
Bret: Spearman from across the sea (Brittany)
Gwri: member of Arthwyr's comitatus
Bedwyr: member of Arthwyr's comitatus
Trahern: local levyman, farmer




Dusk, Sebbi:
I look furtively at the horizon again; it is dusk. The sun is painting the sky a bloody red and reflecting off of the river. Beortred is with me too, and it is late, too late, for we are cornered. For four days we have been hunkered on this hill, the warriors growing ever more surly - we are all strained. I look at the rope in my hands, then the dejected creature at the other end of it. Her name is Denyw, and gods but she was good to have, a pretty thing once she stopped weeping. Now, though, her usefulness has come to an end.


Dusk, Beortred:
The screams have started. I wince, turn away, and wince again and close my eyes; I can not meet the black sorrow in the girl's eyes. It is the way of war and woe to the vanquished, but for myself I will have no part in it. Still, I am gladdened to be with Sebbi here, and to see other warriors here with similar ideas.


Sigehelm thought that that first warband shadowing us would depart - it is led by Cei, and every man knows that he is but one of Arthwyr's captains. But he did not, and yester-eve Arthwyr himself arrived with all the spears the Wylisc could muster. It is a fearsome sight to behold.


We are slaughtering the captives. No food for them, no freedom but for the embrace of their God. Sebbi hands her a heel of bread and takes the cord from around her neck. She blinks in disbelief. No Samo and Esselt are they. The others mock me for my knowledge of stories, and yet they in the stories are remembered all these years past.


I step towards her and she flinches; I hold up my hands to show I mean no harm. Sebbi steps forward too and she cowers; I push him away and he frowns at me. Slowly, I hand her a few mangled silver and copper coings, then point into the oncoming darkness. "Your people are that way girl," I say, though in truth I do not know that they are her people or that they will welcome her. She can fare no worse with them.

She mumbles her thanks, then breaths "God bless you," and slips away into the darkness.


"What was that?" Sebbi asks. I shrug. "If we live, I will not miss such a small amount of silver. If we die, I'll have no need of it for I will be in the gods' hall." It is as good an answer as any, and Sebbi seems to accept it. We stand for a time, watching the camp of the Britons as their campfires spring to life, a feild of stars and embers to mark our deaths.


Oswi, dusk:
I stand on the hill called Baddon with my lord Sigehelm. The crumbling stone tower atop it was a good lookout post once, I suppose, before the forests were allowed to grow around it. Forests that hid Arthwyr's approach. But Sigehelm is no fool. He has a plan to defeat these Wylisc and send them scampering back to the west. He aches to beat Arthwyr again, as do we all.
Under Sigehelm we have known great success. I wear a coat of silver scales that glint in the sun and at night glow in the light of torches. I have a fine spear and seax, and if - no when - we return home I shall commission a fine Frankish sword made, perhaps find a wife.


Deorwine, dusk:
I know my lord. I've served with him for years, and this is once of the worst situations we've been in. Perhaps not the worst, but it's not good. A crumbling tower and washed out earthen bank with a palisade that thank the gods we were just able to reinforce in time.I know my place: I will die with my lord, hopefully before him, if that is what is necessary. Everything depends on the Wylisc for we are running out of supplies. If they attack, then we have a chance. Arthwyr's horsemen will not be so decisive then if we fight in this fort.


Ethelbrigt, dusk:
I worry I have killed my brother. I brought him along on this raid, and while we seized much wealth it could all end here. I've seen battle, but never a battle this large. I don't know what will happen. When Ceardin added his warband to ours we grew to near four and ten hundreds, one of the largest armies I have heard of.


I am sharpening my angons, heavy throwing spears. Scrape, scrape.


But it is said Arthwyr has gathered twice our numbers. Scrape, scrape


I cannot believe that is possible, and yet is seems it is. Scrape, scrape.


Please, Tiw, preserve my brother if I fight well, If I die well.


Scrape, scrape.

[Alwyn]

A brilliant start! I like the poem, is it yours? The short sections from different perspectives and your use of the present tense make this a gripping, powerful introduction to your story.

[waveman]

It is mine, yes. Based loosely off of Y Goddodin. Thanks, British side will be up soon, I think

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

I think it's a fascinating idea to tell the story of such a famous battle from the points of view of twelve warriors of different ages and ranks. As Alwyn said, nice introductory poem, too.

I'm enjoying the Saxon side so far, and I'm really looking forward to hearing the British side.

[waveman]

Gwri (right) and Sheridan (left), overlooking the fort and smoke from the Seax fires

Argyle, Dusk:
I sit at the fire. To be true barely can I understand the speech of some of my companions, so different is it from my own. Of the hundred spears of Dyfed camped before the Seas on the hill, near ten of us are called Argyle - named by parents missing the old land.


Where Dyfed welcomed Hibernians, Guened repelled and slaughtered.


But that is neither here nor there. If we do not act the Seas will spread like a plague. That is why an hundred spearmen of Dyfed have marched these many miles from the hills and coasts we call home to bleed in the east. If we fight and fall not here, likely it will be our sons.


I stir the fire absentmindedly, draw my cloak around me. My wife Caoimhe made it for me, the spear resting against the log I sit on was a gift from my uncle. Well they understand the duty that calls me here.






Bevyn, Dusk


The fort worries me. I cannot see how many Seax are behind its rotten timber walls, but it must be a lot. They have raged as several warbands, burning across the lands of Maxima Caeseriensis*, and very few lords took it upon themselves to impede their progress.


Until Arthwyr did.


Rode south from a rebellion in the north, sent messengers to raise the men of the South. Near a thousand from Maxima Caesariensis, half that from the West-folk, a few hundreds each from Dummonia, Ceint, even Britain the Lesser. A man in Arthwyr's own comitatus - Gwri - he told me that this is our great chance to avenge the hurts inflicted on us by the Seax, who did not even have time to repair the old fort they cower in. I told Sheridan we are kin, but he doesn't believe me, even now as we stand out on sentry duty. That a member of Arthwyr's own comitatus would be wed to my cousin Lynesse? But he hasn't seen her beauty, enought to make men mad...


But enough of that. I elbow Sheridan in the ribs, and he starts - he was slipping off to sleep. He grunts his thanks and I nod. A member of the comitatus, what stories they have, what glory. It is an honor to even fight under Arthwyr Britannicus' command even as a simple miles. I have my spear and shield and a thick coat. I will give my all for Arthwyr, for Britannia.






Trahern, Dusk:
I reel with the drink. Soon, I shall be in sleep, but for now our raucous shouts - falsened by drink though they be - will no doubt unnerve those Seax dogs. We of the east, men of Ceint and the coast hate them. There is fire in my veins, in my soul. The northerners and westerners do not understand our hate of the Seax, but they have not been subject to the raids, the burning, the ravaging. I till the earth in Ceint but I have marched north to fight in this great battle to curb the Seax menace. Even now some of my neighbors - those not with me here - march east from what is left of our holdings of the Ceintland to ravage the Seax in the lands they stole from us.


I bellow at the heavens and many other men do too. Let the Seax fear us. For I certainly fear them.




Bedwyr, Dusk:
I sit with Arthwyr and a few chosen warriors. We have settled on a plan for attack. Rather than take the missiles that would shower on us should we attack the palisade, we will march to the unfinished portion. It is what the Seax will expect, what they will hope for even, but they have underestimated the fury of Britannia, inheritors of the mighty fury of the eagles. We are to divide into two battles; I am to lead the first.


I rise, clasp forearms with the men here: Uthwyr, Tiernan, Tury, Leigh, Gwri, Drummond. And of course Arthwyr. I look into his grey eyes and see a calm sea, cool confidence. "Go with God, brother," he says. "And to you," I reply. I go now to sleep. Tomorrow shall be the true test.






Gwri, Dusk:
I am, perhaps, frightened. Arthwyr sees this, I know, for he sees all. Is is our shepherd and our guiding hand, our lord of war. He says nothing of course, claps me on the shoulder as I depart. I have told Bevyn that our victory is only a matter of time, but that is in reality far from certain. The Seax must be running out of provisions - I heard the wails of their prisoners being executed, the tears of relief from those who were released - but so, too are we. We must attack, and while the wooden walls of their fort are weak, they are strong enough to resist us. Tomorrow we march to the gates of death.


I think, then, I will go find Tiernan, and we shall sit with Bevyn. Men should be with familiar faces on an what will be the last eve some will see, and he tells me one of his comrades does not believe we are related by marriage. If anything, that should at least provide a welcome distraction.




Bret, Dusk:
I am well armed. Much better than the savages from Hibernia who sit at the fire with us. Some are playing dice and a few Bretons have joined in. As for me, I will check my armor, and then check it again. Wise words from my captain. I have no wish to die here.


I do not belong here. I am here because my lord promised aid to the Pendragon, and so we are here on this God-forsaken island. I, I need glory and success to rise in my lord's esteem and thus through the ranks. I need to make him see that the affairs of Britannia are not our own. Else we would not have left. We must look to our own lands and the Francii, our new neighbors these last eleven years since the fall of Syagrius. Though their attentions may be to the South as of now, we are not beyond their scope. And yet here I am on this insignificant island where the farmers sratch a meager living, and beyond its shores the world goes on.



*Maxima Caesariensis = Southern Britain (-Wales, Kent, Cornwall)

Thanks Callaigh, and here are the Britons

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

And the Britons were worth waiting for.

Like Alwyn, I'm really enjoying the different perspectives each person adds to the overall view of events.

[Alwyn]

Great update, the different perspectives are working brilliantly. Gwri's reassurance of Bevyn (contrasting with Gwri's private thoughts) and Gwri's decision to go and sit with Bevyn were particularly effective, for me.