The Tin Isles [IB2 Conqvuestvs Britanniae] "finished"

[waveman]

This battle was not nearly so interesting as the last one, except that it was quite chaotic due to the rain and how scattered the AI's forces were. But my troops had the advantage of being more numerous and better quality so there was never really a chance of defeat like in the previous battle. However I am getting close to their capital and I believe the Goddodin have only one large army left

[Roman Heritage]

Well, in such cases I too prefer not to write in detail about such battles. You cannot imagine how many battles have been cut off during the Great Jihad...I sometimes had three/four fights for turn, it was exhausting. So I uploaded only the ones really meaningful Anyway, let's march onto Din Eidin!

[Alwyn]

I enjoyed reading about this battle; I liked the detail about the painted shields and the comments about the discontent among the people who are fighting a losing war.

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

I agree with Alwyn. I also liked the detail about Braith wanting to sit on the roof!

[waveman]

Thank you Alwyn, Callaigh, I was hoping that those small details could in a way replace my usual "battle narrative" as it were. I believe Braith may find herself a more important part of the story - she's beginning to develop a personality in my mind

Roman - I'm glad I don't have to deal with that many battles but as it is right now in the story I'm tearing the Goddodins apart piecemeal. That being said there is something big coming up...

And an update in the works, hopefully, hopefully tomorrow. I'd like to get a couple up before I disappear for finals

[waveman]

Chapter 6: Din Guardi

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

It is now two days since I lay siege to Din Guardi of the Goddodin. I creep ever farther northward. This is a good thing, for our allies the Picts are hard-pressed by the men of Dal Riata. Fiachnae has encircled the fort of Din Celydonn, the guard of the Pictish hearlands. The Pictavi, I am sure, will be hoping for better fortunes next year as 458 nears its end.


What other news is there? As winter sets in we set about fortifying our position in the cold north and devote much of the contents of our treasury to building solid timber walls around our strongholds.

And much other effort into breaking down others'. I assualt the fort of Din Guardi before the enemy has too much time to recover; my adoptive father Otho once told me that the key to a successful attack was to keep hitting the foe hard and relentlessly, for he served as a cavalryman before being lamed by a spear thrust and turning to trade. Despite having no respite or time to lick their wounds, these men of Goddodin put up a fierce fight. They unleach a hail of arrows on the men I send to the walls bearing rams; when I send my archers to counter them the cut my archers to ribbons. Still, they were distracted long enough for my rams to reach the walls, which soon fall. From then it is only a matter of time until the settlement falls, although the Goddodins still fight feircely and take many of my men into death with them. It is a simple, gruesome affair. Well do I remember taking part in a similar assault at Caerweir under the command of Cuenu.





Archers. They are interesting fighting men. They are near useless in any meaningful engagement; they cannot kill heavy infantry or cavalry in any meaningful numbers. Still, they have their place in sieges and in thinning the ranks of light infantry, but I would take heavy horse over them any other day.



To the West, Mor has successfully taken Cairmanguanid . He scoffs at the victory, however. Much of the garrison was simple militia and the place fell easily into his hands. I would gladly trade places with him at this point. The letter he sends states that he intends to continue on his march north as soon as the area is pacified. It is strange how little resistance the men of Ystrad Clut are putting up. My brother has not faced any serious opposition since Penrhyonnyd, and that was two years ago.



Cadoc of Guened now rests at Cairguricon, now the mightiest city of Guened. I can only hope that they can hold it fast against the hordes of Anglii in the area, in addition to the Concillium and Regnum Britonu. So far, however, they have been able to maintain their neutrality from the constant warring down south.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Soon we recieve great news! Were we not in enemy territory I would order a feast, for King Drest of Pictavia has succeded where none of his vassals could: he has defeated Fiachnae, slaughtered his army and sent the Dal Riatans scurrying back to their miserable coastal holdings- at least, those who won't be remaining under Pictish soil; and they were again caught and thrashed by Caltram during their retreat. Despite my strict policies many a man from my army can be found drunk tonight after out successful siege. It is a good thing my companion Elidir thought of a plan to maintain at least some sobriety: a few months' extra pay for he who remains on guard and vigilant, to be checked routinely by my personal staff.



On another note, the power of the Conciloum wanes: Geraint of the Regnum Britonum has defeated Brydw of the Concillium, further weakening the Council's hold on Britain. Despite High-King Caderyn's recennt military success on his borders: north, on the border of Suth Ængla and west, on the border with Regnum Britonum, he is but one man and cannot face the threats surrounding him adequately. Great events are beginning to happen in the South, for Prince Alfuuihi of the Iotingas has recently landed, we are told, with an army of at least a thousand and is rallying more men to his banner even as he lays siege to Cantwarabyric. Lord Tytila of the Ænglisc has claimed Caer Luitcoit and with it a great swathe of central Britain, further jeapordizing our southern border. I am worried about this, and so too are my brother and my advisors. Fulvius has even gone so far as to suggest peace with the Goddodin, but most wish only to bring more steel and death to the northern tribes. In any case I have sent a message to Mor for we need to discuss the possibility of taking action in the south.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

I will remain in Din Guardi for the winter. The men are happy to have some light rest and to have shelter during the winter. The only real activity they have is training for a man can never have enough of that, and routine patrols through the region to prevent any rebellion. But this task mostly falls to the cavalry.

[waveman]

I bit slow perhaps, but I thought we could do with an overview of the isles. (No Ireland - there's always war in Hibernia). But there could be some important happenings during this winter

[waveman]

Chapter 6, Part II:​ Pax Romana

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

It is November and yet more snow is falling. From the low ridge we can see the campfires of our troops as they cook their dinner.

We find a log to sit upon and gaze at the stars for some few minutes, enjoying the peace. But royal privilege has its price and its rewards, and peace is of the former rather than the latter.

I break the silence. "It is good to see you brother, and good to hear of your successes."

Mor smiles. "And you as well, though your successes have been far greater than mine of late. The Ystradi seem to have disappeared into the hills for the most part. All I have fought is some militias in the hamlets they call their fortress." He has a strange, almost hungry look in his eyes.

I punch Mor lightly on his shoulder. "Well that is a good thing, yes? Look at the losses I've taken. Great victories, yes, plenty of small inconsequential ones as well, but look at how many of my men are fallen."

He nods.

"Besides, you crushed them at the Penrhyionydd Hills. They're probably scared witless of you."

Mor shrugs and nods. "Perhaps."

"And you must be getting good at siege warfare!" I jest.

This finally prompts a full laugh from him. "Ohh yes," he says, "I'm so much better at that now! 'Oh no, you must build the ram this way!' 'Stop, deploy this sheild wall there you idiots!'" He stops to laugh some more. "Although sometimes I think our sieges are missing something. Perhaps we should be more Roman."

"Roman?" I ask. "Roman? What good is being Roman? What have the Romans ever done for us?"

Mor sighs. "Before they left, many things, as you well know. The roads, education, aqueducts, peace - "

"Bah, peace! And then they took half of our men around the world in some civil war! The roads crack, the aqueducts crumble, the -"

Mor touches my arm to silence me, and in this moment he truly looks kingly: his breath fogging the air in front of a backdrop of majestic trees and a field of brilliant stars as he looks thoughtfully at me, his face given a warm light by our lantern, and in the distance a wolf howls its mournful song at the moon.

"Yes this is true, but we could bring it back! And if we could conduct sieges as they did just imagine: no walls could stand before us! But this is a discussion for another day. Tell me, what was so urgent that I needed to ride east?"

"We need a better strategy. You and I are as boars right now: we are charging blindly and bloodily north. I would have us be more as wolves, hunting as a pack."

He leans forward, his chin propped on his knuckes. "Go on."

"Where are we going? What is the end goal? How do we balance a war in the north with the tumult in the south, the power of the Ænglisc?" He raises an eyebrow at my use of the word "Ænglisc" rather than the more commonly used Anglii or generic Germanii. "Nevermind, just been talking to Ælla some. But we need a plan. Cynfarch says we should advance in parallel."

"So neither can be surrounded?" I nod. I have known Mor to be clever since I met him. "I like it. But this will require... wait, Cynfarch Sanctus? The old man's still alive?"

"And kicking. And insisting we build forts."

Mor tosses his head back and laughs again. "Sounds just like him. My light horse will be perfect for relaying messages between us; your heavy horse would be too slow and could easily be intercepted. So, yes we shall march forth together. As it is I think we have our enemies divided: Ystrad Clut is hard-pressed by my advances and has some warriors held up in a fort farther south by the hand of some of our nobles. Dal Riata has been set back by High-king Drest so the Pictavi are safe for now, and you are punishing the Goddodins. As for the south.... We shall have to watch it. Should we be threatened, one of us well return home and the other will remain to guard our gains in the north."

"Which one of us?"

"Whichever is more practical at the time."

I nod; this is quite sound.

Mor unrolls a map and gestures for me to hold the lantern. Given where we are right now, we can fall back if need be to here," he says. "This being the case you should pacify the region around Din Guardi. "


"I understand."

"Good," my brother says, and smiles again. "Now tell me about these sons of yours!"

I am happy to oblige him; I am very proud of them.

[waveman]

Chapter 6, Part II:​ Pax Romana

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Perhaps we should be more Roman."

"Roman?" I ask. "Roman? What good is being Roman? What have the Romans ever done for us?"

Mor sighs. "Before they left, many things, as you well know. The roads, education, aqueducts, peace - "

"Bah, peace! And then they took half of our men around the world in some civil war! The roads crack, the aqueducts crumble, the -"

I wonder, did anyone catch this little reference to Monty Python's Life of Brian?

[Roman Heritage]

Don't worry about slowness, sometimes having a chapter focused on foreign politics is needed. I often find myself to be forced to...there's just too much stuff happening to dwindle it into a "normal" chapter. Plus, it helps us focus on what's happening around there, and what will be the future challenges!

About the second one - quite nice one. Becoming the true heir of Rome in such a war-ravaged land is surely needed...for the keeping of pax, sure, but for imperium, too

[waveman]

A Village

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

For myself, I ride about the countryside this winter. But not alone. No, I ride with a full cavalry ocnginent to put to rest any plans the Goddodins may have of rebellion. When our spies report rebels, we root them out of their villages and hill-forts, their forrest sanctuaries. It is easy work for they are few and not trained warriors for the most part.


As we ride to one village, it is eerily quiet. I call for my men to stop and dismount. Macsen and I lead the majority forward while Fulvius and the younger, less experienced men watch the perimeter. This village was not specifically named as rebellious, yet it is wealthy and was surrounded by many that were. So this is a precaution.


I nod to Macsen and we busrt through the doors of a hut only to find it empty. As we progress through I can tell by the perplexed looks on my men's faces that they are all the same. Or nearly all. A few miles emerge from buildings hauling sullen Goddodins. Seven old men, three men and a woman who all seem to be idiots, a woman who could not walk, and two small families that shiver in fear as they look at my warriors. For what they see is men clad in bright metal and hard leather, the hard men who have rampaged across their country, and we have no idea what lies their nobles have fed them about us.


Quietly I lead my men towards what must be the chief's hall. I gather my best household warriors: Macsen, Aella, Merriadoc; we burst through the doors, shields raised and weapons ready.


"Stop!"


And we stop, so surprised were we to hear a woman's voice, so commanding.


I gesture to them and they search the hall. No one is here. The woman whose voice stopped us is sitting in a great chair swathed in furs. Not knowing what to make of this I approach here. As I open my mouth she speaks: "Are you the leader of these men?" she asks sternly and while this unsettles my men I do not really see why.


"I might be, yes."


"Then I wish to speak with you and you alone." My men exchange glances but I wave them away. "Leave us, she cannot harm me." They do so reluctantly. "Call if you need help," whispers Macsen as he passes me. I wave vaguely at him.


When they have left we stare at each other, this woman and I. Now that I am really looking at her, I notice that she cannot be have seen much more than 20 years, if that; she is slight and I can see some wisps of blonde hair escaping from her hood. As I am in the position of power - I have 200 men with me and thousands more at my call - I wait for her to speak. This clearly irks her, and I smile lazily, making her visibly uncomfortable.


"I would know your name," she says at last.


"I am Dunawt, of Y Strafi. And I would know your name."


"I am Aeronwy." she pauses. "Lady Aeronwy." Her eyes flit from side to side nervously. "So you really are him? Aren't you?" She continues on when I don't respond. "You're the great warlord of Ebraku. They say you can't be killed! But I was expecting you to be older!" she exclaimed.


I laugh at this last statement. "The young are what pushes our world girl, not the old. So tell me, why do you want to speak with me. Are you not scared? I hear your nobles tell terrible stories about me..."


At this she stands and begins to walk around the hall. "I wanted to see with my own eyes who this great man was. And I wanted to plead for the safety of my village!" She threw herself to her knees in a sudden fit of passion. "Please do not harm us, we have not rebels, we are tired of war. Our nobles are dead or gone, we submit!"


I smile. "If your people," and how do these people find themselves ruled by this girl? "are indeed loyal to us then they will have nothing to fear."
She relaxes visibly, then stands up and walks back toward the chair.


She pauses as if coming to a hard decision.


Aeronwy turns toward me, looking over her shoulder. "I have another proposition for you," she says, and lets her dress fall to the floor.


What can I say of this but that I do feel some regret.





I am, after all, married, and it is my duty to be with Braith. But it is only a political marriage and while I enjoy Braith's company at times this Goddodin girl fascinates me. I could also die any day. Aeronwy seems to be of the same mind as my men, believing me to be invincible, nearly some demi-god of war.


My men and I remain in the village overnight and in the morning Aeronwy goes to the forests to fetch her people. This is the moment I dread, for now is the perfect time for them to actually attack us. She could easily have been trying to lull me into a false sense of security. I disperse my men throughout the settlement, and so we wait.
It is not a long wait.


Within an hour Caedrieth spots shapes moving in the woods. A score of men walk slowly out from under the shade of the great trees. Men who bear shields and spears.


I nod to Fulvius, who blows a horn. My men instantly form shield-walls in the streets. We wait tensely for more men to come. And they do, more men with shields and axes and spears, and in their midst I can see Aeronwy's blond hair. "I knew it," mutters Macsen. "Too good to be true."


"Aye, but was it worth it?" asks Fulvius gleefully. I smack his helm with the flat of my sword. "Go to your places fools, they don't look like much."


And in truth they do not. As they near us the Goddodins falter, and the flow of them from the woodline has trickled to a stop anyways. They edge nearer and as they do I can see that nearly all of them have either grey beards or none at all.


Aeronwy pushes her way to the front. "Stop!" she cries. "What are you doing? You promised we'd be safe!"


"Then have them throw down their weapons!" I reply.


"No! We will be defenseless!"


I push forward through a shieldwall, spread my arms. "We mean you no harm, but it does not matter what you do. We could slaughter you all whether you had weapons or not. I would take my four hundred men over a thousand of that lot," I say, gesturing at the pitiful force in front of me. I throw down my shield and sheath my sword. "A man who is careless in enemy territory is a man asking for death. I am taking precautions."


Aeronwy hesitates, and the hundreds of men on either end of the street hold their breath. She turns away but before she can say anything a boy throws his shield and spear to the dirt. Some older men follow suit, and soon all have cast aside their armaments. I order my men to stand down and to welcome the villagers. They do so, but it is a lukewarm welcome, and women and children emerge from the forest with a few more warriors who carefully place their weapons on the ground.
I smile. I smile at my men, the Goddodins, Aeronwy.


"Fulvius."


"Dunawt?"


"It was worth it."


That as they enter the village, the Goddodins are surprised to see but 200 men rather than the 400 I had claimed to have with me. I shrug. I exaggerated my numbers.
Sometimes diplomacy is merely an extension of warfare.

[waveman]

Thank you Roman. Indeed I had way too much for a single update I think, so I split it into several smaller ones. The overall scene, politics, Dunawt's experiences

WAIT A MINUTE! I see what you're doing, defending their Roman Heritage, Roman Heritage

[Roman Heritage]

Oh, I just noticed your update, this was quite nice too It surely was worth it, uh? I'm curious about what inspired you, whether it was an ingame event or just an occasion to show us some tiny bits of Dunawt and the Gododdin's personalities?

WAIT A MINUTE! I see what you're doing, defending their Roman Heritage, Roman Heritage

Damn, you caught me Isn't subtle propaganda like this genial, is it?

[waveman]

The Prisoner

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The raids continue. Whole villages burn - huge swathes of inhabited land change over a fortnight into devastated, depopulated regions. Others remain untouched.

I bring Aeronwy with me on some of the rides - those in more friendly territory - for she knows the land and the people. Her presence reassures the people that we are not the depraved conquerors they have been led to expect- at least not to them. Indeed I have encouraged my men to find any Goddodins willing to ride with us to reassure the people, and there have been several willing to, even a minor chief called Anoirin.



"You want Goddodins to ride with you?" the stranger asked. "We will," he said, gesturing at himself and several companions. They were well-dressed and well-armed.
"And who are you?" I asked.

"I am Anoirin. I have lands south and west."

"And why would you ride with us?"

"To keep my lands, to prove my loyalty, to prevent needless bloodshed," he answered defiantly, chin high. "Take your pick."

"And what do you mean by pointless bloodshed?" inquired Macsen.

"I mean any resistance. It is clear at this point that Ebrauc is here to stay and few but King Llewdin and the northern chiefs have seen this. Those who still fight here are fools fighting for a fool king. He does not deserve our loyalty."

"A pretty speech," mused Macsen.

At this point, Elidir, who had been evesdropping on our conversation joined in. "What are you lands?" he demanded.

Anorin looked taken aback. "Souwest of Caer Ys Gual, around Caer Mylfnar," he stammered. At this response Elidir drew his sword. My other men followed suit.
"I know the banners of Mylfnar, the devices on their shields. Many men of Mylfnar fell in battle against us, and your father and uncle were healthy when I last saw them only a few years ago. Where are they?"

Anorin drew his sword as well, then cast it to the ground. "They died skewered on Ebrauc spears. And my brother Buden drowned as he tried to escape across a river after the Battle of the Northway. But it was Llewdin's rage and ambition and pride that pushed my father onto those spears. And I would not be standing here as leader of Mylfnar had not Buden died. No, I want nothing more than to see King Llewdin fall and his son Gwalchmai as well."

I sat, thinking. His presence could secure the loyalty of many Goddodins. He knew the land. It was worth the risk. "Very well, you may ride with us. My thanks. SHouyld you prove loyal you will be handsomely rewarded."

Anorin nodded gravely and offered his hand. We clasped forearms.

The look that Elidir and Macsen shared behind him did not escape me. I knew they would be watching him.




We break from a small wood and Aeronwy shakes me from my reverie. She gestures at the village before us. "These people should be friendly. They have never held muych love for Llewdin."

And indeed they do not. The headman and his council readily swear fealty to Ebrauc, if not eagerly. In fact much of the coastal area around Din Guardi pledges for Ebrauc with little trouble. It would seem that Llewdin did not provide adequate protection from the reeving Germanii. And so the seek a better lord. Of course it helps that near quarter of my party are Goddodins, a third if you count the women.

And so we ride through the snow from village to village. It is somewhat strange to be riding with the Goddodin men among us. Fulvius, well Fulvius can't stand them,so much to the point that he has begged to be allowed to manage our forward scouts. But that is understandable. His family has fought them for generations. Our relations were quite frosty at first. Each side looked at the other with a mix of disdain and hostility and suspicion despite the few efforts to bridge the gap.


"Why?" asked Aeronwy one night as we lay together at the fringe of camp.
"Why what?" I was confused.
"Why, despite their surrender, their changing of sides, their many concessions, do your men still hate the Goddodin men?"
I sighed. "I would not expect you to understand." I roll over onto my back to watch as some whisps of smke flit between some branches throwing abrief haze over the stars.

She climbed on top of me, stealing my attention, leaning back so the furs fell from her. "But we have been riding with them for two weeks now. Is that not enough time? We have passed through many places that werer perfect for ambushes, yet there were none!"
"Two weeks cannot undo many long years of war woman! Think of how much both sides have lost!"
"I know! You think I do not know this? And I am helpless in this as well. WHile you have your army and my father had his own warriors, I must watch as things happen. As battles come to pass and as a new power comes to our lands.But I have made my peace as have the people who found themselves in my care after my father was killed. I have made my peace with his killers."
I sighed.. "You have given me much to think about."

Aeronwy drew the furs around us and whispered in my ear "Then I urge you to think hard, but for now, think no more for a short while"



The following morning there was no change, yet I watched my men and the Goddodins more closely. The men rode with their countrymen, although many of my men rode with their Goddodin women.

As we reigned in for the night I stopped my men, Goddodin and Ebrauc alike, and dispersed them to different campfires. Intermingled campfires.
"Are you happy yet?" I asked Aeronwy.

"Not yet," she replied, "but I think we soon shall be."

In the weeks following, the majority of the men seem to have warmed to the Goddosins. We were even ambushed by some Goddodin nobles, but my men, all of them, defeated them soundly.

"After all," mused Caedrieth that night, "what difference is there now in riding with Goddodins from fighting with the Anglii a few years ago?"

This statement brought about much debate, friendly debate, from both sides. Ælla even gave the boy one of his people's arm-rings, of which the boy is absurdly proud. "He deserved a reward!" Ælla says gruffly when I ask him about it.

And we have taken three prisoners. We have only a third of our supplies remaining, so I send the majority of the patrol back to Din Guardi, including Aeronwy and Anoirin. I stay out with only my closest advisers. And the prisoners.




We tether them to the ground, and heat some iron rods in a great fire. The Goddodins are terrified. I know I would be. Macsen approaches with a red-hot rod, but I take it from him. I will perform this foul deed myself. After a few touches of the brand, the first is nearly incoherent and has soiled himself. The next is unconscious, but that does not matter. I wished only to unnerve the third.

I squat by this third man as the irons are re-heated. "Tell me, friend, who are you?"

He spits at me and I backhand him. "Not so friendly, eh? we'll see about that soon enough. "

His eyes bulge in fear, but to his credit the man says nothing. Elidir solemnly approaches with the rods. Macsen reaches for them but I stay his hand. I should be the one to do it. And so I do.


Thankfully the man talks after only a few burns, and I is a font of information. We deposit him in his lands, after. I take from him only his right thumb and an oath to never fight Ebrauc again. The reward for his bravery is his life and lands, is not seeing his peasants slaughtered or his wife and daughters dishonored. The gratitude in his eyes makes me slightly ill, but it is what need be done. I am above all else a Prince of Ebrauc and I will do everything in my power to ensure that my men see home again.

[waveman]

Your subtlety is awe-inspiring. I reread your comment to reply and had to stop and laugh, simply marvelous. And the simple truth of it is that the Characters are taking firm personalities in my mind. Believe it or not it started most firmly with Mor and has since spread out to others. I a way updating these more personal parts has become easier, but also harder since there is no way to show them except by writing more than I had originally intended. This and the slower events in-game at the time conspired to leave me this perfect opportunity

[Roman Heritage]

Your subtlety is awe-inspiring. I reread your comment to reply and had to stop and laugh, simply marvelous. And the simple truth of it is that the Characters are taking firm personalities in my mind. Believe it or not it started most firmly with Mor and has since spread out to others. I a way updating these more personal parts has become easier, but also harder since there is no way to show them except by writing more than I had originally intended. This and the slower events in-game at the time conspired to leave me this perfect opportunity

Well, we've had Dunawt and Braith's point of view until now, so you could make use of one of the lesser characters, or Mor himself - which would be quite a return to the origins it seems - to show sides of Dunawt's personality, and stuff? A battle report from the perspective of Aella. or Fulvius would be quite nice, too. These could however be harder to wind into the plot, it's actually up to you - and you're doing really well.

[waveman]

Ah, you've anticipated my next moves! We will indeed be having some of the story told from additional viewpoints soon, although from whom I have not yet decided

[Alwyn]

Excellent chapters! I enjoyed the ability of Dunawt to avoid violence with a well-executed bluff in 'A Village' and the risk which he takes in 'The Prisoner'.

[waveman]

Chapter 6, Part 6: Marching North

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Elidir of Dunuting; March 17, 459


As soon as the snows melt Dunawt marched on the larger of the two Goddodin forces that were nearby. He had sent Elidir to Caer Ebrauc to raise additional horsemen for the march north - either as supplementary forces, or as replacements. As it was they ended up being mostly replacements; the enemy's horse could not stand against the elite cavalry of Ebrauc but were fiercely stubborn nonetheless and thus exact a high cost in terms of horsemen. How they were hated by the men.


Elidir arrived proudly with over 200 horsemen, "all thirsting to spill heathen blood!" he roared when they arrived. This was, perhaps, out of character for him - but Dunawt's successes and enthusiasm had rubbed off on him. As Elidir's father had said: To be cool and collected is a disposition fitting for a man of a noble Roman line but in warfare that must change. Still, Elidir had never been as pretentious as many other nobles, and he would often spend his time with others from the village: Dunawt, other lesser nobles, even some commoners.

Elidir had ridden them hard to be able to catch up to Dunawt's army as it marched north and despite this the men were performing well. Well enough that Dunawt was looking on approvingly as they demonstrated some maneuvers. The Prince was a harsh judge of military prowess, that was certain. But it was also certain that his drive for perfectionism in his soldiers yielded unparalleled results.

After the demonstrations the captain of one of the companies of horse, Cwynic, approached him. "Christ but the man works us hard!"

Elidir could only laugh at this. "You'll be grateful later, have no doubt about that."

Cwynic was doubtful. "Well, I suppose we'll see eventually. Still, I can't see the reason. We trained day in and day out at Caer Ebrauc, then rode like the Devil himself was on our heels up into this rain-sodden country."

"Eventually?" Elidir clapped Cwynic on the shoulder. "Lad, well be fighting the Goddodins within the week!" He countinued, seeing the young noble's surprise. "Make no mistake, either the Goddodins will attack us, or Dunawt will attack them."


5 days later

Elidir and Cwynic rode slowly forward, surrounded by their companies of horsemen. The watched as a rabble of Goddodins approached. Elidir could sense that the raw recruits were nervous. Well-trained though they might be, none had seen any substantial combat. A nervous cavalryman asked his companions, "How many do you think there are? Three thousand? Four?"
His companions began discussing the numbers amongst themselves, but could not decide whether there were 2000 or 5000. One boldly claimed that it did not matter for they were being led by Dunawt of Y Strafi.

"Listen to that Cwynic! They're so far off the true numbers. But when Elidir looked over at his companion, he could see that Cwynic's face was pale.

"How many are there, Lord Elidir? We will win, won't we?"

Elidir paused; he had forgotten that this young man, despite how competent he was, was also untried in the crucible of war. "Oh aye, we will win. There's perhaps fifteen hundred of them. That's half our numbers. We've just cut them off as they were marching north to join the host gathering at Din Eidin." He spoke loudly, making certain that the other men around him could hear as well, and take heart from his words. Looking at the center of the line, Elidir noticed that Dunawt's banners had been raised. That was the signal for the battle to commence.

He and Macsen each took half of the horsemen, one flying column on each flank, and engaged the Goddodin cavalry.


They quickly shattered the lighter Goddodin cavalry's cohesion and morale, and the few that were not slain fled the field. In the meantime the Ebrauc miles engaged the Goddodin infantry. As Elidir rallied his marca back to him, he watched as the Ebrauc shieldwalls advanced up the face of a steep hill.

A low whistle from the left startled him. He turned to see Cynfarch, and Merriadoc. Cynfarch was speaking to the younger man: "Look at that, boy. Not many men will readily climb a hill that steep with enemy spears waiting at the top. But these men, they trust the lord."

"As they should!"

The older man spat to the side. "Nay lad. A man will follow his lord's orders, but these are something different. They know our Dunawt has a plan in mind. He won't just throw their lives away on a hill."

And indeed he does, thought Elidir. "Right then! Form up men! Advance on the walk." The persuit of the Goddodin cavalry had led Elidir and Macsen's horsemen to the rear of the Goddodin infantry. And now they would exploit this. A single charge from the heavy cavalry was enough to break the Goddodin infantry's resolve to fight, and they fled.

[waveman]

Chapter 6, part 5: Of the Monks, April 2, 459

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Macsen rose early. He was curious about the lives of these monks. They seemed so untroubled by the constant wars raging about them. This monastery was their world, interrupted only briefly by the arrival of visitors. Usually.

He attended mass with them, nodding to the other soldiers who had come as well. There was something serene about it, especially after the vicious fighting of the last few months. One of the miles had tears streaming down his face as he listened to the service.

Too soon it was over and the monks began to shuffle out, ready to begin their tasks for the day. On a whim Macsen followed one, and if the man noticed or cared then he did not show it. After some time in the gardens, which were too close to the outside for his liking, Macsen noticed another monk, and followed this one, albeit more distantly. This man turned inside a door that Macsen had not noticed before. Macsen slipped closer, and realized that the monk was a scribe. But then he did something strange. He glanced about surreptitiously before returning to the bookshelves. His curiosity piqued, Macsen could only watch as the monk dug through dusty tomes.

Finally finding the one he was searching for the man added it to the pile on his work bench. Glancing around again, and deciding that there was no one around, the monk opened the last book. He wet his quill, looked around for a third time, and began to write. The scratch of the quill had an effect on Macsen almost like that of the service: it was rhythmic and soothing. Without realizing it, the lord from Ebrauc began to edge slowly forward.

After several long minutes he could at last see what the monk was writing. And it was puzzling.

For the monk was writing in cramped script in the margins of the page. Macsen leaned forward, trying desperately to see what the man was writing. And slipped.

And ink well shattered on the floor.

The monk, a young, thin man, yelped and leapt up from his bench, wild-eyed. The two men stared at each other for some time before Macsen mumbled an apology. "Sorry, just wanted to see what you were writing."

The monk composed himself. "I will show you," he said, "if you do not tell anyone of this." Macsen nodded.

As he leaned over the old volume, he could see that it was a treatise on plants in the area and any medicinal benefits they had. But the monk's writing was not at all related.

On this day being the first of the month of April in the year of our Lord 459 I woke as I would any other day. I went about my normal duties. However at around midday as myself and many of the other brothers were on break from the copying of our esteemed and ancient manuscripts, there arose a graet tumult beyond the walls of our humble monestary, of which none of us could discern the origin. We ran to the gates to see whawt the problem was only to be roughly pushed aside. I was angered; for this was not the proper action for a man of God. Yet they were not any of my brothers. They were warriors, it was clear, bearing swords and shields of heavy wood and coats of metal scales, mixed with poorer looking soldiers with tattered cloaks and simpler armor. Naturally we feared for our lives and our sacred house but they seemed unconcerned with us. Soon it was determined why. A great host was approaching with many horsemen and thick line of spears, and even as it aproached, it divided fluidly, the horsemen galloping in several ways while the body of the infantry continued on. Father Mynnydog had the presence of mind to usher us inside the chapel and there barred the doors. But I climbed the bell tower that I could observe the happenings.
The men who had run through our humble house were but the first of a different force, and these were being harried by the horsemen mentioned earlier, bearing a standard of crossed swords on a royal banner, who, having put to flight all mounted opposition before them, found themselves free to inflict great injury on their foes. This slowed the footmen, who bore banners of the boars of the Goddodins, and prevented them from reaching the hill that our monestary was built upon. The greater force divided itself and some of their own infantry engaged the men before our gates, and there they were kept, unable to come to the aid of their comrades, as the rest of the force marched on. The smaller force, lacking any cavalry now was doomed: for once the infantry of both sides were engaged the horse were free to attack them from all sides at will, and soon they were made to break, and great slaughter was inflicted upon them. Then the victorious turned their attention to the foot of the monestary, wherien the struggle still raged. The defenders were dead men but determined to take as many of the men as possible into death. As such the yeilded not an inch and a brutal fight was had, and the cries of the dismayed and the wounded, of which there were many, were pitious to our ears.
This fight was soon ended my horsemen riding through our garden to strike at the deffenders from the rear, and this unsettled them so graea~....

Macsen looked up. "Well, go on, finish it!" The monk scrambled to do so, and Macsen provided him with more information: relative sizes of the two force and Dunawt's plan, which had been to drive off the opposing cavalry and then encircle the enemy in the plains, but that he had not expected the dash to the monastery. Eventually the two left the study, and had to return to the field outside the monastery, passing the garden, where the wounded were being treated, and there were many of these, yet most were Goddodins.

Father Mynnydog had been adamant that all of the wounded would receive medical treatment, to which Dunawt had reluctantly agreed. Then, surprising many except his close friends, he made a donation to the monastery. Macsen was pleased.