AERONS TEARS

Chapter 9

At Eborarcum, Arthur set his infantry to refurbishing the Roman built t own. Repairing a deep ditch and earthen rampart completely around the town. While his horse cavalry, carried out raids on the near by settlements of the Angles. Eborarcum would become Arthur’s base in the north. Arthur was merciless in the drilling of his army. Training them to act as one. Forging them into a likeness of his own mind. Quick, agile, decisive.

Among Arthur’s “Guests”, the survivors of the victory on the Aire river, Was Aelle, Cynrig, or king of the Angles. As Aelle slowly recovered, He watched Arthur and that Army, training. It was a sobering sight. Aelle became convinced that Arthur could wipe out all of the Angles in Britain with impunity. Those thoughts led him to approach Arthur.

Arthur had known from the beginning who Aelle was. It was always Arthur’s intention to set Aelle free. To return to his people and to tell what Aelle had seen. To Know that Arthur was capable of mercy, so that there would be some hope to temper the despair. Arthur hoped Aelle would take a desire and hope for peace back to The Angles.

Judging Aelle fit and hale, Arthur set him free. Sending him away with gifts, a new sword, a wolfhound and a war horse Arthur could ill afford. It was a gamble. Aelle was impressed. promising to stop the incessant cross raiding. Promising to tell all he had seen and experienced. Aelle planned to return with all of his chieftains in six weeks, to talk, and hammer out a peace. Arthur was pleased. Whether Aelle returned as friend or foe, Arthur would be prepared.

Beacon fires warned of Aelles return some five weeks latter. The news was welcome. Aelle approached Eborarcum with 200 men, and a train of women folk from the reports. This was no war hosting. Arthur ordered his cavalry to maneuver outside the new earth works of the town. timing the display to match Aelles arrival. The Angles were awed. Aelles chiefs had never seen such a display. Clearly their king had not exaggerated in his telling of the defeat. Arthur greeted Aelle as a fellow king and friend. Clasping forearms, the two kings embraced before the refurbished gates.

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Caladwylch was the first they say, The very first serpent bladed long sword ever made. Forged for Bran the blessed by the Y Tylwydd Teg. The bars of steel, Folded and twisted upon them selves, many times, with many chanted spells. Then hammer welded together into a magnificent blade. One of those bars had come from a dragons egg. A star fallen from the heavens.

Caladwylch could cut any sword. Cleaving the softer iron blades as if they were made of clay. A magic sword that brought victory. Only the rightful Rio-Thamus could wield her. For Caladwylch is a willful blade.

Why is this sword called as a woman you ask? Because anything that sinuous and so beautiful, could only be a woman.

Myrddyn chanted, his words following the echoing beats of the bodhran , the war drums of the Celts. Bespelling the great hall in the way of bards.

" Caladwylch was forged for victory, to protect the people. She cannot be used for anything else, or she will turn against the hands that wields her. It has been said, that Caladwylch had turned against Boudicca after the sacks of Roman Londinium, and Camulodunum.

It has been told, that Boudicca fell upon Caladwylch after the destruction of her army. It has been told that Maecsen Wledig carried Caladwylch When he brought the flower of the Britons forth on his quest for Rome. And Caladwylch turned in his hand. Bringing defeat and death. Caladwylch was carried back to britain from far away Rome, to be hidden away safely concealed in Lynn Cerrig bach. To await the Riothamus.

There the magnificent sword lay, until a mad prince carried her forth. In his madness, This mad man, plunged Caladwylch into a stone. The Gwynhyfyr, The white Phantom, Called the Lady of the lake Caused the words, ” Whoso draws Caladwylch from this stone is the rightful Rio-Thamus of all Britain..” Then she changed into a White raven, flying away. Many men tried to Draw the sword. many men failed. Until one day,

A boy in a moment of need, drew her from the stone. Arthur the son of the dragon, Rio-Thamus! “ The Celts stamped their feet, Crying “RioThamus! Caladwylch.!”

Aelle sat back. Magic, how do you fight magic? These people believed. They would harry the depths of the underworld for their king.

Myrddyn moved to his accustomed place at Arthurs right hand. Aelle locked eyes with the white raven always perched on Myrddynn’s shoulder. The large bird stared back.

Aelle looked away, Badly unnerved. There was something strange about that bird. I cannot stand against magic he thought to himself. How can I ask my men to fight magic? The gathered Angle chieftains thought the same thoughts. They drank more quietly and brooded.

Aelle feared magic. Having heard the story of Caladwylch, Aelle studied the beautiful sword hanging on the wall beside Arthur’s dragon emblazoned shield. Aelle recognized the sword. He had seen that sword when he’d been a much younger man.

There were twenty of us he remembered. We had been called to the great hosting of Hengist and Horsa.

The Romans had returned from across the sea and overthrew Vortigern, burning him, his wife and his heir alive in Vortigerns new tower. As the father in law of Vortigern, Hengist was claiming regency over the west. An ambition that brought only death to both Hengist as well as Horsa.

Constans the Roman, had become the new Rio-Thamus. With his two sons, Ambrosius and Uther commanding his army of Romans and Armoricans along with Cymru that had risen against Vortigern. Constans quickly destroyed the Saecsen and Angle hosts. Aelle never made it to that hosting however. No one from his crew had.

They had made camp for the night. Seven men had gone hunting small game. The rest, relaxing after a long days march and setting camp.

A demon fell upon them. Howling, stinking of blood, rot and death. Cutting down three men and disappearing back into the forest, before they knew what was happening.

The warriors tended the dying men, ten of them had snatched up their spears and pursued the demon. None of them returned. Thirteen men that first night.

The hunters returned empty handed , only to be dismayed at the the carnage. They buried their dead while waiting for the the sunrise when the seven of them set out for the hosting.

They were on the march when the demon returned. Rising out of the tall grass that had grown close to the old Roman road. Then disappearing back into the forest. Leaving two dead men and a badly wounded Aelle in it’s wake. None of their swords or spears had been blooded.

Leaving their slain crewmen where they lay. The four unwounded survivors fashioned a stretcher from two spears and two cloaks taken from the fallen men.

Deciding to keep to the road, they set out again until finding a farm stead the survivors paid the farmer and left Aelle to their care. Aelle did not remember the anything until he awoke in a enclosed bed. In the farm house.

The demon had stalked and killed them. Aelle awoke to a charnel house. The only intact body was that of a huge black wolfhound. A spear through it’s massive chest. The others were in pieces. Aelle was the only survivor.

Shivering at the memory. Aelle studied the sword. Then looked long at Myrddyn with the white raven perched on his shoulder. There had been a white raven then as well he remembered. It had been shadowing them. They had even fed it bits of food, thinking it an omen from Woden.

Staring once again at the sword, Aelle considered Arthur’s demonstration the day before. The message was clear. Arthur’s victory on the Aire, was no chance thing. The Rio-Thamus could repeat that performance at will.

A shield wall of straw men had been arranged, two hundred paces in length and four deep. The carynx sounded and the Brigante war chariots charged, in the jagged Celtic arrow formation. While the infantry, in three roman squares, advanced at a run.

The chariots, equipped with blades on their axles, and heavy cross bars in front of the horses, also with spikes and blades attached. Rode over and through the shield wall. Great holes in the shield wall, simply appeared in the wake of the chariots. Warriors leapt out of the back of the four wheeled war chariots. Forming into The arrow formation, then charging into the rear of the shield wall, as the Infantry hit from the other side.

Arthur’s horse cavalry, held in reserve, then charged, rolling up the flanks of the shield wall. The men then neatly formed back into their ranks, and moved back to their starting points. This time facing the well repaired Roman road, and Aelle’s party.

The Angles had watched all of this, understanding the implications perfectly. They were beaten. The Angles could not match Arthur’s army.

Expecting the worst, Aelle had been surprised when Arthur greeted him as a friend. Offering bread, salt and mead with his own hands. Arthur had honored Aelle as a close friend rather than a conquered enemy. Aelle didn’t know what to make of that. He had come with his faithful chieftains expecting hostages to be taken and terms dictated, not to be feasted and treated as friends.

The impressive military demonstration aside. Arthur’s courtesies clearly demonstrated his honor and strength. Arthur’s treatment of Aelle showed confidence and power.

Aelle knew full well that many of Arthur’s people had to oppose any good treatment of the Sassanach. The Celts and the Romans wanted revenge. Arthur clearly had other plans. His will was obeyed.

Honor, courage, confidence, power. These things Aelle understood. Magic however, gave him the horrors. How can you fight magic? Aelle knew demons were real, he had met one, carrying Arthur’s sword. Wondering what sort of man could command demons and magic as well as men.

Aelle studied Arthur, and drank deeply calling for more of the heady winter-mead. Wishing for ale, and worrying. Silently watching as Arthur moved among his people. They were without a doubt, his people. They loved him dearly it was plain enough to see.

Soon the hall was cleared and the trenchers set for the feast.