by Griff Hosker
This was where we missed Brother Oswald. He was well read and he knew how to decode the books and writings of Osric. He would have known precisely where we should land. “I am not sure; where would you suggest, Captain?”
Daffydd rubbed his beard. “The land of Austrasia is the most civilised place to land. I believe they have a king called Dagobert. “
“Brother Oswald told me of kings who were called Merovingian. They lived in Frankia.”
“Aye, Warlord, we read of them in Constantinopolis. They were great horsemen.” Pol had enjoyed his time studying in the capital of the Eastern Empire.
“Then that is where we will go. Have we still the maps which Brother Oswald made?”
“I will fetch them.”
When we looked at the maps we saw that they showed the old Roman provinces but, fortunately, they gave the place names. They were all marked in red. The names might have changed but the places themselves would still remain. We saw one on a river; it was called Abbatis Villa. “That looks as good a place to start as any.” And so we headed east towards the north western coast of Frankia.
Wyrd does not always allow us to make our own decisions. Even as Daffydd put the steering board to head north and east a storm came from the north east and drove us ever south. Daffydd and his crew desperately fought to keep us heading east rather than west for the edge of the world lay there. It seemed the Gods did not want us to visit Abbatis Villa. We fought the storm for three days. The sails were in shreds when it abated. We saw no land but just rain, storm clouds and seas which threatened to engulf us and send us to the bottom of the ocean. When dawn arrived and the clouds lifted we found that that we were off the mainland of Frankia but we had no idea where. The maps did not help us. We knew, from the position of the sun, that land was to the north of us and there was a distant island to the south east of us. That led Daffydd to deduce that we were close to the land of the Bro Waroc'h. He had never landed there but he had heard that they were the descendants of the last Romans to live in our land and the ones who had fled the Saxons when they came.
“You mean they are our people?”
“They were but I have never landed here before. It is a savage coast and dangerous.” He pointed to the island. “It is protected by sharp teeth such as that. It is wyrd that we are here now.” He pointed to the north. “There is, I believe, a port there. I have heard it named Gwened.”
“That sounds like our language. We will need to repair will we not, Captain Daffydd?”
“Aye, we will.”
“Then we sail to Gwened and see what wyrd has in store for us.”
Daffydd was correct, it was a wild and savage coast. It made ours look positively welcoming. There were steep cliffs and savage looking rocks guarding the entrance to the port. There was an oppidum but my heart sank when I saw the cross of the White Christ atop a stone church. These may have been our people once but now they worshipped the White Christ and I feared for our welcome. We had little choice. Our ship needed repairs to the hull and to the sails. We would have to venture into the port. The two arms of the harbour meant that we would only be able to leave if the inhabitants allowed us to. Once in we might become trapped.
As we tied up an armed delegation came towards us. There was a holy man and ten armed and armoured warriors. Bows were aimed at our ship and I noticed that two smaller boats had been rowed to the entrance of the harbour to block us in. Although we had no mail on I had Saxon Slayer and Llewellyn carried my dragon banner. I stepped off the ship once the gangplank was in place and my equites formed a guard of honour.
I decided to take the bull by the horns and speak first. “I am the Warlord of Rheged.” I pointed to the ’Gwynfor’. “Our ship has been damaged by the storms and we beg your indulgence to repair our ship.”
I saw a reaction from both the priest and the leader of the warriors. “I am Caradog son of Conmar. We had heard that Rheged lived still. Does the king survive yet?”
I shook my head. “The last king was Pasgen and he died. The line of Coel and Urien has disappeared. We are all that remain.”
Caradog nodded to the archers who lowered their weapons. “You are welcome.” He hesitated. “You say your ship needs repairs?”
I smiled, “We have gold and silver to pay for the materials. We are no beggars to ask for charity.”
I saw the relief on his face. “This is Bishop Judicael.”
I nodded and saw a frown cross the priest’s face. We had not shown due deference. “You are not Christian?”
“No, we follow the old ways.”
Had I burned him with a brand I could not have had a more extreme reaction. He almost recoiled. I suspect that if we had not spoken his language then he might have ordered Caradog to attack us there and then. As it was a look passed across his face of pure hate. I thought that was ironical. Brother Oswald had told us that the White Christ was both all forgiving and moderate. His followers seemed to be the opposite. He stormed off with his two tonsured priests scurrying behind him. We must have offended him just by our presence.
Caradog smiled, “It seems you have upset the Bishop. He does not like pagans. You are our distant kinsmen and welcome. Come to my hall and we will sup while your captain sees to his ship.”
We followed him up a path leading to a twisting stone lined track which led to the gate. The walls were stone topped by wood and I saw many stone buildings within the walls. The hand of Rome was visible everywhere.
“Where were you headed, Warlord?”
“We were going to Austrasia to buy horses.”
He laughed. “I am afraid that the moment you opened your mouth you would have been attacked.”
“Why? We have done them no harm. Indeed until a few days ago I had never heard of the place.”
“That is our fault. We war against them. Their regent, Pepin of Landen, has tried to take our land and expand the empire of the Merovingian kings.” He smiled, “We are too big a morsel for him to digest.”
“Your land looks to be rocky and hard to assail.” We had entered his fort and I saw the machines of war such as we had and the well armed sentries. “And your men look like they know what they are doing.”
“When our people first came here almost two hundred years ago they were the last Roman soldiers to leave Britannia. We are all descended from them and we do them honour by maintaining their high standards.”
When we entered his hall I could see that it was built in the Roman style. There were fine pots and jugs of wine on the table. It felt like being at home. The floors had mosaics upon them and there appeared to be the heating we had in our fort.
We sat around his table and some of his men joined us. I could see both sets of warriors examining, surreptitiously, each other’s armour and weapons.
“I have heard of the Warlord but you seem somewhat younger than I expected.”
“That would have been my father, Lord Lann.”
“The warrior who flew with Myrddyn into Morcant Bulc’s castle and slew him.”
I did not correct him. The legend had spread far and wide. “Aye and Myrddyn lives still.”
That interested all of them. “We have heard of him. He is the most powerful wizard in the world; although our Bishop would dispute that. He thinks all wizards and witches should be burned.”
“But not you?”
“I am a Christian but I have heard of too many strange events to dismiss wizards as something evil.”
I was happy talking to this man. He reminded me of my father. He had a similar look to him. The grey flecks in his beard told me that he was no longer a young man. Myrddyn always said that wisdom came with age. “If we are not welcome in Austrasia where would you suggest we buy our horses from?”
He suddenly looked interested. “You wish to buy horses?” I nodded, “There are none left in Britannia?”
“The horse breeding lands are in Saxon hands and they do not ride horses. Our stock needs rejuvenating.”
“In that case we can help you. We tra
de for our horses with the lands of the Al-Andalus.” I frowned. I had not heard of it. “They are the Arabs who have conquered the land to the south. We fight the same enemies, the Franks. I think they believe that the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” He shrugged. “It suits us for we have the fine Berber horses. It helps us to defeat the Franks.”
“And would you sell us some?”
“We might but I would get to know you first. Will you and your bodyguards stay here for a couple of days? It will take that long to repair your ship. I was amazed that it made it into port.”
“So are we, it was wyrd.”
He laughed, “And that is something else which we have lost. The church says that there is no wyrd, it is all the will of God.”
“And is that not wyrd?”
He clapped me about the shoulders. “I like you, Warlord, the next few days should be interesting.”
We were given the freedom to wander around town but I noticed there was always one of Caradog’s guards on hand to explain what we were looking at. I did not blame him. He was a careful ruler. I made sure that we visited the ship to make sure that we were being treated fairly. Daffydd had a wry smile on his face when I asked him. “Let us say the canvas and the wood we have purchased must be of the highest quality for we paid a pretty price for it.”
“Needs must, Daffydd. We have the gold and silver to pay for it. I think we might have raised our prices in the same situation.”
“Perhaps, although I like to think not.” I left my captain knowing that he would do all that he could to ensure the ship was seaworthy before we left.
Many of the nobles came to visit with us although the priests assiduously avoided us. It was as though they would be contaminated through conversation and contact. We discovered many links in our histories. The stories we told of our pasts were the same. That evening they threw a feast for us. I suspected we had either paid for it by our repairs or we would be paying for it when we bought horses. However Caradog had us over a barrel. Where else could we go? We each took it in turns that day to tell the tales of our battles and our losses. They became quite fascinated by the sword and its origins. The idea of a sword being dug up and then cast into the water hearkened back to a shared past. Had the priests been there they might have cast doubts on the stories but the warriors knew the bond between a warrior and his sword was a strong one. We heard their stories too. It seems that they had two revered fathers. One had been the Warlord, Flavius Atius, who brought them from Britannia when the Romans left and the other was Caradog Strong-arm who seemed to have brought others over not long before my father was born. It seemed we were closely related.
Caradog drew me to one side. “Tomorrow we will travel inland and visit our horse farms. I should tell you, Warlord, that our horses will not be cheap.”
I nodded, “If I had wanted cheap then I would have stolen them from the Saxons. I want good horses. I want horses that can wear some armour.”
“I have heard of armoured horses but they are in the east at Byzantium and Persia.”
“I have visited there and seen them. That is what gave me the idea. Our horses are good but they cannot bear the weight of an armoured rider and their own mail.”
“You have brought your mail with you?”
“We have.”
“Then wear it tomorrow. It will give you a truer picture of what our horses can do.”
We returned early in the morning to retrieve and don our armour and helmets. Caradog was impressed with the quality. “We have nought as fine as this.”
“We modelled it on the armour of the east. Our smiths are now skilled at making it. We also have fine maces and long spears too.”
“You did not bring them?”
I shook my head, “They are only of use when mounted.”
“We would be interested in trading for them from you. The Kings of Frankia do not like to trade with us. They prefer to war with us. We have their captured weapons but yours are better.”
We were taken to the stables. They only had spare horses there for three of us. I took Pelas and Pol. Caradog apologised, “We do not keep many horses here in our stronghold for we like our horses to have the freedom to exercise.”
We travelled north for half a day. Caradog had provided an escort of his own men. “We do not fear the men of Austrasia but sometimes they raid deep inland. It is as well to be prepared.”
“Do you not have forts along your borders?”
“Aye we do but they are cunning and sometimes trick the border commanders. They only manage that once for we are quick learners.”
In many ways they were in a similar situation to us. We could block an enemy in the passes along the Clwyd but we were vulnerable to an attack from the sea. I envied Caradog. If Aella had not made the mistake of landing so close to our fort then he might have succeeded in hurting us. I would have to spend some time with Pol and Lann Aelle. We needed better defences.
The land through which we passed reminded me of the land around Stanwyck. If we could only recapture that land then we would have the right conditions to raise fine horses. We rode up a gentle slope and when we reached the top we saw a huge field filled with a huge herd of horses. There were fences around to keep them penned. Caradog swept his arm around them. “These are the young horses. We break them in as we need them.”
They were muscular and powerful looking animals. They appeared to stand about fifteen hands high although some were a little bigger. “They are just what we require.”
“We will visit with the horse master. He lives in a hall just along the valley.”
We found stables and a small hall. The horse master was a sour looking individual who proved that looks sometime belie what lies within. He was the friendliest of men. He saw my look of surprise when he laughed at something Caradog said, “I am sorry for my looks, Warlord. They are the result of a kick in the face when I was young. I have learned to avoid hooves since then.” He led me to the stable block. “We have the best horses here. I have my stallions. These are the best five that we possess.”
There were three chestnut horses, one jet black and one grey stallion. They were all kept separate. Macliau, for that was his name, spoke to them as though they were humans and he seemed inordinately fond of them. When he had shown them to us he asked, “Well, Warlord, what do you think to my beauties?”
“I think they are magnificent.”
He nodded proudly, “I always like it when the master brings visitors to see them.”
Caradog said, “The difference this time, Macliau, is that the Warlord wishes to buy one and some of your mares.”
He looked shocked, “I don’t mind trading the mares but I cannot lose one of my stallions.”
“Macliau, you are the guardian of these beasts. They belong to me.”
I actually thought that he would weep but he merely hung his head. “Yes, master. Which one would you like, Warlord?”
To me they all looked superb beasts. I could understand the horse master’s dilemma. “Macliau, you choose one for me.” He and Caradog showed equal surprise. “You are obviously closer to them than any man and you will know which the best is for me. I would like you to choose.”
“You are being cruel now, Warlord. I cannot choose.”
“Imagine then that you are buying one. Which one would you choose to buy if you could have but one?”
“That is easy.” He went to the white one, “Snowflake here is the best.”
“So I should have him?”
He did not answer at first but he stroked its mane and its nose. “What do you want them bred for?”
“War horses.”
“Then Snowflake is not the stallion for you.”
He went to a chestnut. “Wolf here has broad shoulders. He is powerful. He is not as fast as Snowflake but he can keep going with heavier loads. Wolf would be my choice.”
I smiled, “Had you just told me his name I would have chosen him.”
The two men looked at each o
ther and then at me. “Why, Warlord?”
“Had you seen my shield you would have seen the symbol of the wolf. My father was called the wolf warrior. I bear the wolf shield and lead the wolf brethren. It is wyrd. We do not need speed we need endurance. We will buy him.”
“But I have not yet told you my price.”
“Caradog, I will pay the price you ask.”
“You are a poor trader then. Why do you not haggle?”
“Because I believe in the gods. If you cheat me then I believe that wyrd will ensure that you pay in the future.” I shrugged, “Of course you do not believe in such things so name your price.”
“You are most interesting, Warlord. I will not cheat you. Come we will let Macliau pick out your six breeding mares and we will speak of gold.”
When we returned to the fort we were all satisfied. I had seven fine horses. It had cost me a small chest of gold but it had been worth it. I also gave both Caradog and Macliau a pendant each to hang around their necks. I had had them made before we left. They were a wolf with a blue stone for the eye. “But you have paid us Warlord, why give us the gift?”
“The gift is to seal our friendship. We are one people separated by a stormy sea of Saxons and Franks. This will remind you that there are others such as you. We believe that such a gift binds us closer than gold.” I shrugged, “You do not need to believe so long as we do.”
They nodded and I saw that they valued the gift. Perhaps they stirred distant memories. I was pleased that Myrddyn had asked me to take some of my pendants with me. Wyrd.
That night the feast was even finer. A young warrior approached Caradog and spoke quietly. Caradog nodded and said, “Warlord, this is my nephew, Llenlleog. He has just finished his training to be a warrior. He begs leave to visit with you and to learn of Myrddyn and the dragon beneath the mountain.”
“Is he not Christian?”
“Let us just say that my nephew has an open mind and has butted heads with our bishop before now. I would consider it a favour and if you would grant it I will send another four mares next year.”
“You need not for I am happy to do the favour. We always need equites who can fight.”
