by Kevin Ashman
Garyn breathed a deep sigh of relief and stood up before draining his tankard of warm ale. The servant returned to take away the bowl and tankard.
‘Thank you, Elias,’ he said and placed two coins on the table, ‘these are for the monks.’ Taking the servant’s hand, he placed a third into the wretched man’s grasp. ‘This one, however, is for you.’
Elias stared at the silver penny on his palm, not sure what to say.
‘Sire,’ he said eventually, ‘this is a generous gift and I will donate it to the monastery in your name.’
‘No, I want you to keep it for yourself, Elias and there could be many more if you are interested.’
‘What use would I have of such wealth?’
‘How about that pilgrimage to Rome you dream of?’
Elias looked at the treasure. He had never held such an amount in his whole life.
‘It is only a down payment, Elias and for certain services there can be many, many more.’
‘What would you have me do, Sir?’
‘All will be revealed in good time,’ said Garyn, ‘but if you are a man able to keep things in confidence, then perhaps we can go a long way to meeting the cost toward that pilgrimage you crave.’
‘If that is a possibility,’ said Elias, ‘then the devil himself wouldn’t make me talk.’
‘Good,’ said Garyn, ‘I will be in contact soon enough. In the meantime, are you able to provide a secure room where a man can sleep in safety for a few weeks?’
Elias thought for a moment before answering.
‘There is an old apple store at the back of the barn, Sir. It is small but dry and can be made comfortable with the addition of a few bales of hay.’
‘Do the monks frequent the barn?’
‘Only the stalls where the donkeys are kept. The rear is rarely visited for it is where we bed the diseased when they seek shelter. You could use that.’
‘It will suffice,’ said Garyn. ‘Prepare the store with clean blankets, I will return this afternoon.’ He placed another silver penny on the table. ‘Keep this between you and me, Elias, understand?’
‘Understood,’ said the Servant, pocketing the coin and looking furtively around, ‘our secret?’
‘Our secret,’ confirmed Garyn.
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Outside, Hywel Ap Rees lifted the saddle onto his horse. Another two riders trotted up and reined in their steeds alongside him.
‘Sire, there is talk of a known thief expected in the Three Saints tavern this evening. It may be worth waiting to see who he is.’
‘Forget him,’ said Hywel, tightening the girth strap, ‘we have other business to attend.’
‘He may be worth a silver penny or two,’ said the rider.
‘Perhaps so, but I met a man this morning and if he is who I think he is, we can be rich men before this month is out.’ He looked up. ‘Ride to Builth with all haste. Talk to the Constable there and tell him to send fifty men at arms immediately.’
‘Fifty?’ answered the rider, ‘what outlaw demands such a force?’
‘A man called Garyn Ap Lloyd,’ said the Liegeman, ‘but unless I am mistaken, this is not his true name and he is really known as Garyn Ap Thomas, one of the most wanted men in Wales.’
‘I do not know of him,’ said the rider.
‘Not many do,’ said the Liegeman, ‘for he keeps such things close to his chest but those in the know suspect he leads the biggest band of brigands in this land.’
‘The Blaidd?’ asked the rider.
‘The Blaidd,’ confirmed Hywel.
‘If this is so, then why do you not seek support from Fitzwalter at the castle?’
‘The reward is substantial for any Blaidd member but for this one, there is a special prize on offer, one that can make us rich in our old age and I will share it with no other.’
‘What prize is this?’
‘One from the Abbot of Brycheniog. I hear he has been personally slighted by this man and has made a lasting oath to administer his own retribution. The only condition is that he is captured alive but to do so will take overwhelming strength. The Constable of Builth has his barracks well manned and has oft expressed his desire to bring the Blaidd to account. Bring them back with you and we will rendezvous ten days hence at the entrance to the village.’
‘Surely our quarry would have fled by then?’
‘I don’t think so, this morning he was full of questions and unless I am mistaken, is up to no good. Why else would the leader of the Blaidd sleep amongst the poor and diseased unless he has his eyes on a greater prize? Now, be gone and return with all haste.’
‘Are you not coming?’
‘No, I am going to Brycheniog. I need to speak to a certain Abbot.
‘So be it,’ said the rider and turned his horse. Within moments they were galloping in different directions leaving Dysynni far behind them.
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Chapter Seven
The Dream of Macsen Wledig
Madog, Tarian and Geraint dined on a fare of Boar and roasted vegetables before Madog dismissed his servants and the three men sat alone around a trestle table in the tent.
‘So,’ said Madog, ‘what is this dream you tell of, but before you start let me say this. I am a practical man and do not take easily to portents of fate by witches or omens. I feel a man makes his own way in this world, guided only by the hand of God.’
‘A wise philosophy, said Tarian, ‘but when a leader deems to lead the masses, then he would be wise to at least know of such things.’
‘So be it, Tarian,’ said Madog. ‘Tell your tale and I will let you know how much heed I pay to it.’
Tarian supped on his ale before starting.
‘Sire, what do you know of the history of our land?’
‘Mostly what we are taught at our mother’s knee,’ answered Madog, ‘I learned the tales of the Welsh Princes back as far as Hywel Dda the lawmaker. However, I also sat in wonder at the stories of Arthur and his Knights as I suspect do all young boys even today.’
‘I suspect they do, Sire and whilst the true stories of Arthur are perhaps different from that told to excited boys, that is a lesson for another day. My question relates to times beyond recent history, before Lion Heart or Harold, even back past the age of saints and the times of the Northmen. I am talking about the times of the Romans.’
‘I am aware of some stories,’ said Madog, ‘but very little is known of those people apart for the statues and ruins they left behind them.’
‘What if I was to tell you that way back before any of us can even imagine, this land was ruled by such men, men who not only excelled in warfare but provided political systems and wealth across the whole country? They brought culture never before seen in our lands or has been since and not only ours, for they ruled all lands from here to the holy land and even further down into Africa. Their ships sailed the seas in their hundreds seeking new lands, either as trading partners or as conquests. They were feared by all and ruled the world for hundreds of years.’
‘If this is so, where are they now?’
‘Like all civilisations, they rotted from within but their legacy lives on across the known world. They brought water where there was draught, culture where there was barbarianism and religion where there was darkness. The Roman Empire was like nothing we have ever witnessed.’
‘And how do you know of this?’
‘Sire, in my time I have had cause to talk to many learned men including those who have religion as their calling. They have seen sights that we can only imagine and read many documents dating back to that age. In Rome, which was of course the seat of the Roman Empire, there are records documenting wondrous things and though the early Romans worshipped Pagan Gods, eventually they saw Christ’s holiness and converted to Christianity. Now it is the churches and monasteries of our faith that hold such records and are the source of such tales. I have been fortunate to hear some such stories and though they may be embellished in the telling, I believe enoug
h to know they bettered us in many ways, not just warfare.’
‘So what has this to do with this so called dream of Macsen?’
‘The story I am about to tell is from that age, my Lord. It is said a great leader called Maximus Clemens sat in power over all of Rome’s greatness. He was an Emperor and all powerful. He ruled lands from Africa to England and feared no man. Yet he was unhappy for though he had everything, he lacked the one thing he craved most, love.’
‘Is this not the case in many men?’
‘Often it is. One night, Maximus Clemens dreamed of a beautiful woman sitting on the crest of a mountain overlooking a fishing village. In this dream, the woman had golden hair to her waist and eyes of azure. She was beautiful beyond compare and the Emperor was enthralled. In the dream she beckoned him with gentle hands and bid him find her for she waited for him in lands afar. They sat next to each other in the dream and looked out over clear waters in a beautiful land but all too soon she was gone.’
‘When he woke,’ he continued, ‘he was distraught that the vision had ended and fell into a great depression. For seven times seven nights he refused to leave his bed chamber, desperate to dream again of this goddess but alas the dream never returned. Finally he sought the wisdom of the old gods and his way was made clear to him, he was to find this beauty for she waited for him still.’
‘I suppose he set out on a quest,’ sneered Madog.
‘He did not,’ said Tarian, ‘for Maximus Clemens held power untold and riches only dreamed of, so he sent out ten thousand men in his name to all the corners of the earth, each seeking the woman who promised to be his love.’
‘Am I to believe this tale of unrequited love, or is there a serious outcome to all this?’ asked Madog.
‘Please bear with me, my Lord as though the build-up has perhaps been embroidered over the years, the outcome is deadly serious.’
‘Then continue, Tarian for I am intrigued.’
‘For two years his men sought the girl until finally, a weary priest reached the north shores of Wales, not far from your own Manor here in Ynys Mon. He heard tell of a great beauty and when he laid eyes upon her, he knew she was the one. He sent word to Rome immediately and Maximus Clemens left his empire behind to see the subject of his dreams. When he arrived, he was astonished at her beauty and asked her if she had ever dreamed of him. She retold the very same vision he had dreamed two years earlier and he knew the quest had been fulfilled.’
‘Immediately he sought her hand in wedlock but though she consented, there was one condition, they would never leave Britannia. Maximus Clemens agreed without second thought for though he was Emperor of Rome, his love of the girl was greater than his love of power. He stayed in Britannia as Emperor and together they ruled the country bringing great wealth and happiness.’
‘It was a peaceful and bountiful time but though they ruled half the world, the girl loved her homeland more than anywhere else. Maximus Clemens made sure Wales prospered under his rule and made a holy pledge before God that as long as his sword stayed in Wales then no foe would ever take her liberty. From that point on, though we could never claim to be equal partners of Rome, we prospered as a nation and traded with the world as equals, free from the yoke of all men.’
‘A pretty tale,’ said Madog, ‘but just a story nothing more. You have not convinced me of anything apart from your love of stories, Tarian.’
‘Then what if I was to tell you that the woman he wed was Hellena Lledogg, also known to us as Saint Helen of the Hosts.’
Madog slowly put down his tankard and stared at Tarian.
‘That’s impossible, before she was canonised Helena was wed to the King of England.’
‘She was, but that King was called Macsen Wledig which was the Welsh name given to him by our people in honour of his protection. His real name was Magnus Clemens Maximus and he was the Emperor of Rome.’
Madog looked between the two men, allowing the news to sink in. Finally he spoke again.
‘Even if this is true, how does it help us?’
‘It helps us because it gave birth to a legend. While Macsen was alive, the country prospered, however, he died relatively young leaving Helena distraught. His role as Emperor quickly passed to another claimant in Rome but she was allowed to stay in Wales as his widow.’
‘Helena was a very clever woman and knew about Macsen’s pledge to the people regarding his sword. She also knew that though Macsen was dead, as long as the sword was displayed then the people would believe in their freedom. Subsequently she arranged to have it displayed in the chapel that held his tomb and for many years, people prayed for his soul beneath the liberty sword hanging high above his final resting place. It soon became a symbol of freedom and stories spread that if Wales was ever subject to conquest, then any man wielding Macsen’s blade would be granted holy power to restore the land to liberty.’
‘Despite his death, Wales continued to prosper and Helena devoted her time to the building of roads in Macsen’s name. Her legacy lies even now between most towns but eventually she turned to the church and died in service to Mary, mother of Christ and before long, the tales become shrouded in folklore.’
‘So what happened to the sword?’
‘Therein lies the problem,’ said Tarian. ‘The sword is said to still be hanging above the tomb of Macsen but the thing is, nobody knows where the tomb is. The death of the Emperor was almost a thousand years ago and since then, Wales and England have fought many battles and when people run screaming for their lives, tales of ancient heroes are oft forgotten in the need to seek safety.’
‘Wars are terrible things, Madog,’ said Geraint, ‘and take their toll on flesh and bone but often buildings have their own price to pay, especially those of a religious nature. Churches are ransacked for treasure but sometimes they are just torn down as a reminder to the local population of who is in charge. Some believe the chapel that contained his tomb was ransacked by the Saxons when they first arrived but others believe it still lays somewhere in the north of Wales, waiting to be discovered.’
‘And there is no record of such a place?’
‘There is not.’
‘So how is this of relevance to us? Are you suggesting I set out on a quest to find a tomb of a man dead a thousand years or more, in a chapel that may not exist to find a sword that may just be the outcome of a fable?’
‘Ordinarily I would agree it begs an unlikely outcome,’ said Tarian, ‘but I have news of a man who claims to know the location of the tomb and though he cannot be reached at present, things are afoot to locate the sword and if we can find it, then your claim will be irrefutable.’
‘And if this man’s claim is false?’
‘Then we will be no further forward than we are now.’
‘But there is also another problem,’ said Geraint.
‘Which is?’
‘Cynan Ap Maredudd has sights on greatness. His army grows under his influence and it is said he seeks the title for himself.’
‘Has this situation not drawn the attention of Longshanks?’
‘Edward prepares for his French campaign as we speak and a minor Welsh Lord flexing his muscles is of secondary importance. However, Cynan knows the feeling in the country is swelling toward war and sees an opportunity. He is a passionate Welshman and seeks the same as us but his lineage is poor and I feel he would not unite the country under one banner.’
‘So is he friend or foe?’
‘He is neither and can fall either side. However, if we can find this sword your claim will be unchallenged and he will acknowledge your lineage.’ Geraint paused. ‘The thing is, Sire we need his army if we are to succeed.’
‘So without this sword we are dead in the water.’
‘Not exactly, we can continue to offer resistance but this is the one opportunity to unite our countrymen. Without the sword, we could wait generations for the mood of the nation to once more ignite but with it, our people can be free within the year.’
> ‘Then our way is clear,’ sighed Madog, ‘whether truth or fable, we need to at least seek this blade.’
‘We do, Sire and already we have taken steps to locate the tomb. The task has been given to the one group with resolve enough to take on such a challenge, The Blaidd.’
‘You have engaged the Wolves?’
‘We have, Sire.’
‘Are they not just brigands?’
‘Brigands no, but they are mercenaries who work for the highest paymaster. I understand Cynan approached them with the same request and offered them their weight in silver to return the sword to him. An astonishing price but their leader turned the offer down and came to one of our comrades, Merion Ap Rees to request a different deal.’
‘Geraint, I cannot better that offer, what can you have possible promised in my name that is greater than the wealth of Kings?’
‘The one thing valued above all riches, Sire and the one thing only you, as King of Wales could ever deliver, their Liberty.’
‘They want amnesty?’
‘They do. They require no silver or gold, no coins or riches of any description. All they ask, if you are eventually announced as the true monarch of these lands is a proclamation absolving them of all crimes and allowing them back to their families.’
‘Is this within my power?’
‘At the moment, all you can do is promise to meet the request but if we are successful and you are indeed pronounced King, then everything is within your power.’
Madog sat back, deep in thought.
‘And you believe this sword exists?’
‘I do Sire, with all my heart.’
Madog paused again, deep in thought. He got to his feet and walked around the tent before returning to stand before the two men.
‘I accept your counsel, gentlemen and will follow this path. Keep me abreast of matters concerning the sword’s location. Until we find the weapon, we will continue to drill our men in preparation.’
‘A wise decision Sire,’ said Tarian, ‘and one I feel you will not regret.’
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