However, Vortigern’s vision had met with hard opposition amoung most of the Romanized Britons, for it had been three hundred years since the Romans had come with their military mastery, their excellent roads and luxurious lifestyles, and many of the Romanized Clansmen were determined to carry on Roman society, even though Rome herself had abandoned them.
It came about that when The Caesar heard news of Vortigern and what he was trying to do, he liked it not at all. The idea of Vortigern trying to place himself as a sort of ‘King of the Britons’ was very threatening to him, for he feared that, if left unchecked, this could lead to some powerful “Barbarian” army coming to the gates of Rome with a desire for blood! So, The Caesar, with the backing of the Pontiff, sent a great Warrior to fight against Vortigern. This was a man they called in the tongue of the Britons, “Garmon” and in the Latin, “Germanus.” He was a cruel fighting man and a great Commander. He was also the Bishop of Auxaire in Gaul.
Now, to explain… The “Universal Church” had – in the land of the Gauls – much more successfully established itself, with its Churches and Bishops, than ever had it done on our shores.
Many of its Bishops were made, not by their devotion, but by purchase. Families with the most wealth, political influence or favours could buy the Bishopric and all the wealth and lands that went with the position for their sons. This had little to do with these prospective Bishops’ Spiritual Enlightenment or their good works toward their God, the ill, or the needy – but all to do with their political station. In this very way had the Commander Germanus been appointed Bishop of Auxaire – Bishop by the Grace of Gold! We thought this shameful. However, the shame was not ours.
Caesar Theodosius, who was in Constantinople with the Pontifus Maximus, called a great convene. This convention resolved to send Germanus to lead an army to Our Fair Isles to accomplish the eradication of Vortigern and his lofty plans. Germanus was militarily backed by The Caesar’s personal “Élite Guard,” who had the distinction of fighting under the banner of the Royal Purple Dragon. Up until that Time, the traditionalists and the Romanized Britons had often fought side by side against their mutual antagonists – the Eire.
Enter the Saxons…
A Time came when Vortigern found himself short of trained Warriors, so he hired Saxon mercenaries from the Continent to augment his troops. This was originally for fighting off the raids of the Eire, who were plaguing the Western Clans. He gifted these Saxons with large plots of Earth on which to live in return for their services. So it was that the Saxons eventually set up a small Kingdom on our soil.
The Saxons were eager to be given this land, for Our Fair Isles are far more habitable and our soil richer for farming than much of theirs.
Those Saxons were a fierce and violent people who have their own Gods, to whom they are fervently devoted. These are mostly Gods of war and machinations; but also do they honour Goddesses: of the Stars, Earth, Moon, Fire, and Ice.
One reason for their fearlessness and ferocity on the fields of battle was due to their belief that, if they died whilst in battle or with sword in hand, they would immediately be swept away by Woden‘s Valkyries, “Choosers of the Slain,” into the halls of their “Paradise” – albeit a much more “earthly” place than the Christian’s Heaven.
Understand, these people were from a vast area of land stretching from South to North. Not all of them were actually Saxons. Although they all worshiped Odin – or Woden – they did, according to how far North or South did they originate, call this Paradise by different names. I am relating this because of the fact that although everyone on Our Fair Isles referred to them as Saxons, their two strongest leaders, the Commanders of their sizeable army, were actually from Jutland.
These leaders were the infamous Hengist and his brother Horsa.
As long as Vortigern paid his Saxons their mercenary stipend and allowed them their land and self-governance, they were quiet and kept to themselves. So they did live peacefully with us … at least at first.
These plans of The Caesar had all remained secret until Vortigern “heard it in the Winds.” For it was said that he had a powerful Druid-Wizard as his advisor.
Understand, Vortigern had not the numbers of Warriors he would need to win this fight, for the Britons still loyal to Rome would stand against him. So, in all of his egotism, competitiveness, and visions of grandeur – and against the counsel of his Druid – he hired yet more Saxons to go up against the Roman army alongside his loyal Clansmen.
The hero of the ensuing Roman victory was a man called Uther the Pen Dragon... The name Uther means Terrible and Wonderful. So, his name meant “Terrible, Wonderful, Chief Dragon.” Of course, he was not born with this title – it was given to him after this battle.
News came to Gorlois three years before his Death that Germanus and the Roman army were calling all their loyalists to arms against Vortigern. Of course by that Time, Gorlois was already ailing.
The tales that arose about this battle were fascinating! One was that Germanus had won against the “Pagan” Clans, by raising a great and deafening battle cry of “Hallelujah.” With this Magical Incantation – or, by the power of the God’s name alone – the battle was quickly over. But then, there were other strange tellings, too.
There was a man – a wise and good man – named Ambrosius Aurelius, who was the greatest of all the Romano-Britons’ Dux. He was the Britons’ Chief Battle Commander. It was he who led the command on the field, under Germanus. Yet it has always been said that the victory had gone to Uther, the Champion who had slain Vortigern. Many have wondered at the details of how this may have come about. The title of “Pen Dragon” was already, rightfully, Ambrosius’. He had not been felled in this battle and his honour and reputation continued to grow after that Time. How and why, then, had this well-earned title been transferred to his younger brother Uther? This is something that has aroused much speculation. All I know is that even as I write his name upon these pages I am sick with hatred of this Uther!
I must rest. I will continue my writings at a later Time.
Morgan
A note regarding perspective and interpreted observation…
There is something I must interject at this early part of my compiling of these Histories. It is about the way that different people interpret and therefore remember so very differently the same observed events, actions, words, inflections, innuendos, motives, Time, place, who said what, or even who was present at any particular happening. Much of it has to do with the passage of Time, failing – though well meant – memory, or simply personal agendas. Perhaps it is simply that people are so different one from another. This has ever been quizzical to me. Yet, I dare say that I, too, fall prey to these very things myself. This is why I have asked everyone to write down their histories as soon as possible after their happening.
But to continue...
The Celebration of Treaties…
It was more than three years from the Time of the Hallelujah battle, when the Romans and Britons who had fought in that battle finally agreed upon mutual terms of settlement – and chose a fortress at which to have their Victory celebration and to make their peace treaties.
It was decided that the feast would be held at the fortress of the Dux of Dumnonia – my Father.
This was a glorious honour! Dux Gorlois had been a great and respected Commander, and even though he must now be carried from bed to chair, his Wisdom was still honoured and respected. It seemed a good compromise as well, due to his obvious sympathies toward all of the Britons. And, he was one of the wealthiest of them. This feast would cost a fortune in gold! And gold my Father had aplenty.
Many men were seeking to marry one of Gorlois’ daughters, so that in due Time they may gain land and power – for that was the Roman way.
Now, the daughters of the Tribes and the Clans are in no way considered inferior to their men. They were not then; they are not now. In matters of law, inheritance, wealth, or the bonds and rights of marriage, wome
n have their say – and their way in all things – as much as do the men. This is an equitable and peaceful way of living. However, it was and still is not so amoung the Romans – nor those who would follow their social rules. These men had embraced the Idea that their Sky Gods were the rulers of the Heavens, with Goddesses having been relegated to inferior positions. This, of course, went right along with their male-dominant society... women are considered by them possessions. They are owned by their Fathers – and owned by the men they have married – or been given to in marriage. Should they be the sole heir of their Father’s dominion, the man who marries them becomes the owner of it all. The wives have nothing to themselves. Their sons, not their daughters, inherit at the Father’s Death. These women have no means of support, other than by whatever good graces their husbands – or sons – will lend them.
Therefore it was no surprise that rumour spread like a Fire in the Wood that Gorlois had two of the most beautiful daughters in all of these, Our Fair Isles. And that his wife, Igraine, who was also very beautiful, would soon be up for the taking as well, because, when Gorlois died, she would be fair game in the thinking of these men.
I must say that this attitude is only amoung the truly Romanized men of the Britons, for it has ever been the way of the Clans and the Tribes to honour the Great Goddess… and any man who honours the Goddess, must also honour women, for we are the fleshly representation of the Goddess on Earth. These men remember their Mothers’ teachings. Women of the Clans and of the old Dark Tribes are well treated. In this we are alike.
The Honours…
When it came the Night of the great Feast of Treaties, no expense was spared.
Great tables had been spread with gold and silver plates and tankards. The hall was lit with many torches, which had been fragranced with Herbs. Beautifully woven cloths and tapestries graced the tables and the walls.
Igraine came out to greet and welcome all at the Well of Nodens, which lay in the path of entrance to the fortress. She was arrayed in all of her exotic Tribal finery. For, on this Night she would stand as a free woman in her own right, before these men who might have it in their thoughts to capture her one Day.
As the banquet began, each guest was seated in their respective places, according to rank.
Then, when all others were seated, Gorlois, as grandly as he had the strength to do, ever so lovingly introduced Igraine to this assembled company.
“Hail and welcome, my beloved wife, Igraine of the Tribes, you of the greatest beauty, you of Wisdom beyond all I know, Sacred Priestess and Seer of the Great Goddess, Guardian of the Well and owner of all that is mine.”
There was a rush of whispering across the great hall and then silence, for in this declaration, Gorlois had named her heir in her own right of his fortress, lands, titles, and his responsibilities toward the village folk who depended upon the Dux of Dumnonia.
It was unheard of that this be said by a Roman. But, Gorlois was not only that, but a Clansman, too...
The silence was profound... but then, beginning with one voice, that of Ambrosius Aurelius , a cheer arose and spread across the whole assembly.
When the cheering subsided, Igraine settled into the chair of honour on Gorlois’ right side.
The crowd settled, too, as each man became acutely aware of Igraine’s great beauty and poise.
Gorlois continued his say... “Igraine of the beautiful eyes which are like black mirrors, into which anyone who looks may see eternity... Igraine… you whose eyes peer into Otherworlds – and can see into the hearts and intentions of all who look back into them – bring forth your noble kin so that they may be welcomed by my comrades in arms.”
Igraine, at Gorlois’ request, had invited some of the most noble men and women of the Old Dark Tribes, so that these Romans could see how it was with her blood – that they were of high culture.
They entered in elegant, graceful form, and did cause another stir amoung the feasters. This Time however, it was with appreciative applause.
When it came about that all the military men had become well drunk with mead, wine, and beer – and bellies were stuffed from feasting upon well oiled and fatty beasts, oysters and Dolphins from the sea, Apples, Grains and other such savories, Gorlois – always the gracious host – said:
“Uther, the Pen Dragon, let us honour you with a toast!”
Lot of Lothian stood, albeit waveringly. He raised his voice and proclaimed, “Uther, The Pen Dragon!
“...Let us all raise our tankards to the champion of the Hallelujah battle. You, who rid us of the tyrannical Vortigern! Vortigern... He who turned brother against brother, son against Father, and cousin against cousin.”
His voice trailed off. For, what could be said about this great loss, which still smarted the hearts of those present.
Silence. But then another cheer arose.
“Uther! Uther! Speak! Tell us the story of how it was upon that Day when you bested Vortigern and ended the war.” Tankards and fists began to beat upon the tables in rhythm. It ceased not until Uther stood.
“Oh, my brothers in arms, I will tell you how it was upon that fateful Day. He began to bellow in his thunderous voice, so that all did hear his words.
“Army like the dashing Sea, with its clashing surge...
Horses curveting anxiously with frantic wild-eyed urge...
Until the Earth did shudder with their mighty tramp...
All loathsome gore... I could not see... using bodies as a ramp...
I smote him with my sword ‘til I severed trunk from head...
The Saxons turned their tails and fled the field in dread...
His head did tumble down... rolled ‘cross the putrid ooze...
His eyes and lips in question froze ‘How ever could I lose?’...
Oh, hideous sight my eyes beheld... still he sat upon his mount...
From whence his head once did sit, blood gushed up as a fount...
Of a sudden the stage fell silent... save the Ravens as they wheeled...
A horrid waste of kith and kin lie slaughtered upon the field...
So Warriors late of brazen boast hath ye won or hath ye lost?
All dear remembered fondnesses... oh, wretched, wretched cost...
Thee hailest me thy Champion, oh thou greedy Gods of war...
Whilst Pale Ones haunt our hearth Fires... pray thee honour me no more...”
The mood waxed heavily sad. After a respectful pause and trying yet again to keep the celebration “celebratory,” Gorlois – always the diplomat – turned attention toward Igraine once more.
“My dear beloved, to allow my friends – these great Warriors and Chieftains – to experience some of the ways of the Tribes, would you mind, my dearest Dove, singing for them and perhaps have your ladies Hum and dance for them? For your voice is as beautiful as the song of any Bird and the grace of your people is stunning.”
She answered, “My dearest husband who has been so kind to me and whom I Love exceedingly, I will do this for your excellent company, as it is your wish. And I, as well, would be pleased to entertain those gathered here.”
Once again all eyes were upon Igraine.
A strange instrument sounded from within the midst of her people and then quiet but steady drumming began and a drone of Humming voices came in softly beneath Igraine’s voice. She opened her mouth and with the most beautiful and beatific expression on her face, sang a song of loveliness – her voice stretching to the heights of the Stars above and plunging into the souls and hearts of all who were listening. When she gazed at them, each one was captivated by her Enchantment. But within the beauty, her hidden Magic was thus; “Do not dare to try to take from me what is mine…” but in the blessing of her song, the words continued: “do be Healed and prosperous… and I bid you peace and the fulfillment of the desire of all of your hearts.”
This is where my Mother had made her fateful mistake. No matter how well trained – how adept – be anyone in the Arts of Magic, mistakes can be m
ade. One who practices the “Arts” must very carefully consider the words they speak or even the thoughts they think when in that state of Magical consciousness. Of this, my Mother made very sure to warn to me later. For, you see – when she granted the desires of the hearts of all present, a chill ran through her to pierce to her very bone. For there was one especially honoured at that feast – the one now named Uther the Pen Dragon, the fervent desire of whose wicked heart – from the moment he first saw her – was to lie with Igraine. He cared nothing for anything else; not for peace, not for wealth, not for Gorlois’ fortress or lands, nor his own honour or his family’s good name. As consumed by lust as are Ravens feasting upon corpses after a battle was he – eaten to the marrow with desire to lie with her and to have her as his own. There would be no turning back for Uther!
Voices of the Stars Page 4