The outlook for Alt Clut looks bright, with Powys seemingly to be brought into the fold in a few generations.
Sad to lose the Karling alliance, they can be a nice deterrent.
Sad to lose the Karling alliance, they can be a nice deterrent.
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Europe in 800CE
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Europe in 800CE
As Europe enters the 9th Century, the power bases of the previous one begin to shift and change as drastically as they always have since the fall of Rome. Of course, the transition is felt and perceived differently based on belief, ambition, a thousand different factors.
At a base viewpoint, little has changed in the British Isles over the last century. The most notable is that of Alt Clut, with the newly widowed Owain II having secured his hold over the counties of Eppidant, Aeron and Nofant.
His biggest threat is Canuall of Pictland, who subjugated Dal Riata and Yns Manaw in the previous decade before. The Pictish King also controls two of the three counties of old Gododdin, thus placing him as the next obstacle in the restoration of Hen Ogledd's borders.
As Europe enters the 9th Century, the power bases of the previous one begin to shift and change as drastically as they always have since the fall of Rome. Of course, the transition is felt and perceived differently based on belief, ambition, a thousand different factors.
At a base viewpoint, little has changed in the British Isles over the last century. The most notable is that of Alt Clut, with the newly widowed Owain II having secured his hold over the counties of Eppidant, Aeron and Nofant.
His biggest threat is Canuall of Pictland, who subjugated Dal Riata and Yns Manaw in the previous decade before. The Pictish King also controls two of the three counties of old Gododdin, thus placing him as the next obstacle in the restoration of Hen Ogledd's borders.
Wulfthryth, now ten years old, remains Queen of Northumbria. Her position remains unstable as her domain recovers from civil war.
Among the other Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, Mercia reigns supreme. King Ecgfrith doesn't hold suzerainity over the remaining Saxon kingdoms, but none of them show a desire to stand against him.
In Wales, Queen Non's victory over her rebelling vassal has cemented both her own hold on Powys and the value of an allegiance with Alt Clut.
And her northern ally may well be needed if she ever intends to stand against the Kingdom of Gwynedd, ruled by Hywel the Priest-Hater. Fortunately her own biggest threat is content with invading the eastern coastline of Ireland.
Hywel's war aside, Ireland remains the same as it ever has been. The tribes of the Emerald Isle are too preoccupied with war against each other to choose a High King. That being said, King Cathmug of Connachta would hold a chance of taking his neighbours by conquest if he was not content with his lot in life.
And at Land's End, the Cornish King Hopkin remains unconquered by the Saxons. Tintagel persists as it has since the days of Roman rule.
While the Isles has experience little relative change, the lands of the Franks have undergone dramatic changes in leadership. In the mid-8th Century, the Merovingians lost their hold on the kingdoms of Francia to Pepin Karling, who split his inheritance between his heirs Karl and Karloman.
Karl once ruled over West Francia, but for uncertain reasons, a faction of lords demanded that the Karling heir surrender his crown to Theoderic, last son of the line of the Merovingians. Theoderic IV passed of old age having held his grip on the kingdom now known as France, and his son Childéric III reigns as king.
Middle Francia went to Karloman, although he perished to a sudden mysterious illness shortly after his brother lost his own crown. Karl inherited Middle Francia but never made any effort to reclaim his old half of the kingdom. Now his young son Ingalbert reigns, but has focused his efforts on other lands.
Those lands would be that of the Ummayad Sultanate under Suleyman, who has almost utterly crushed the Christian kingdoms of the Iberian Peninsula.
All save a small section of the once great kingdom of Asturias, now cut off from the coast and surrounded by foes, King Petro has little hope of survival against the Muslim tide.
In Italy, the Lombards maintain their stranglehold, a fact that still worries Pope Innocentus. He has responded by excommunicating Desiderius II, but none only the Venetians have attempted to dethroned the Lombard King.
Little help would come from his fellow Christian Patriarchs in the Eastern Roman Empire either, they remain in turmoil as the Iconclastic movement remains a veritable threat to Eudokimos the Usurper.
Even without the shadow of Iconoclasm, the Romans would rather focus on the much more real threats around them, the Abbasid monolith in the Middle East of course, but also the rising kingdom of Croatia on the western border (who's king Vladislav is betrothed to one of Owain's daughters).
And the Bolghar Khanate, worshippers of the sky from far away.
North of Bolghar lands is... chaos, to put it simply. A hundred different chieftains do battle against a hundred different khans. Only the one-eyed "Whining Ilmenian" Rodislav of Novgorod has had any real success in the north of this turbulent land.
________________________________________________________________________________________
For Christendom as a whole, in spite of the controversy gripping the Romans, in spite of the growing divides between east and west, even in spite of Muslims in Iberia and Arabia, there was peace.
Until one seemingly average April morning in Rome. Pope Innocentus had attended morning prayer like every other day and save for wild rumours and the occasional letter from Childeric III of some nondescript barbarian kings fighting over frozen wastelands, all was good in Christ's domain.
Then came the crack of thunder...
A terrified cleric burst into a meeting, screaming frantically about the Tiber. The Pope ventured outside to see what had traumatised the cleric. That was when he too felt the sting of fear.
Scores of longboats sailed towards the city below a dark storm, singing songs of blood and plunder, of heathen gods and the world's end. At the head of the leading ship stood a man, clad in heavy woolen breeches, howling at the sky.
Rome burned that day. Though the city would recover as it had after many a sacking, countless wealth was stolen, hundreds were slain or enslaved and the city mourned for it's Most Holy. Innocentus hadn't even survived to see the sacking, the Pope's heart gave out as he witnessed the arrival of the Norse reavers.
Fear spread like a wildfire across all Christianity, from the highland tribes of Pictland to the pilgrims in Jerusalem. Stories of pagan warlords making eagles of blood out of devout bishops and carrying the womenfolk away to plunder their virtue were told in every hall, every tavern. Some were true, some were great exaggerations, others were lies, but there was one absolute truth at the dawn of the 9th Century:
The Age of the Viking had begun.
Among the other Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, Mercia reigns supreme. King Ecgfrith doesn't hold suzerainity over the remaining Saxon kingdoms, but none of them show a desire to stand against him.
In Wales, Queen Non's victory over her rebelling vassal has cemented both her own hold on Powys and the value of an allegiance with Alt Clut.
And her northern ally may well be needed if she ever intends to stand against the Kingdom of Gwynedd, ruled by Hywel the Priest-Hater. Fortunately her own biggest threat is content with invading the eastern coastline of Ireland.
Hywel's war aside, Ireland remains the same as it ever has been. The tribes of the Emerald Isle are too preoccupied with war against each other to choose a High King. That being said, King Cathmug of Connachta would hold a chance of taking his neighbours by conquest if he was not content with his lot in life.
And at Land's End, the Cornish King Hopkin remains unconquered by the Saxons. Tintagel persists as it has since the days of Roman rule.
While the Isles has experience little relative change, the lands of the Franks have undergone dramatic changes in leadership. In the mid-8th Century, the Merovingians lost their hold on the kingdoms of Francia to Pepin Karling, who split his inheritance between his heirs Karl and Karloman.
Karl once ruled over West Francia, but for uncertain reasons, a faction of lords demanded that the Karling heir surrender his crown to Theoderic, last son of the line of the Merovingians. Theoderic IV passed of old age having held his grip on the kingdom now known as France, and his son Childéric III reigns as king.
Middle Francia went to Karloman, although he perished to a sudden mysterious illness shortly after his brother lost his own crown. Karl inherited Middle Francia but never made any effort to reclaim his old half of the kingdom. Now his young son Ingalbert reigns, but has focused his efforts on other lands.
Those lands would be that of the Ummayad Sultanate under Suleyman, who has almost utterly crushed the Christian kingdoms of the Iberian Peninsula.
All save a small section of the once great kingdom of Asturias, now cut off from the coast and surrounded by foes, King Petro has little hope of survival against the Muslim tide.
In Italy, the Lombards maintain their stranglehold, a fact that still worries Pope Innocentus. He has responded by excommunicating Desiderius II, but none only the Venetians have attempted to dethroned the Lombard King.
Little help would come from his fellow Christian Patriarchs in the Eastern Roman Empire either, they remain in turmoil as the Iconclastic movement remains a veritable threat to Eudokimos the Usurper.
Even without the shadow of Iconoclasm, the Romans would rather focus on the much more real threats around them, the Abbasid monolith in the Middle East of course, but also the rising kingdom of Croatia on the western border (who's king Vladislav is betrothed to one of Owain's daughters).
And the Bolghar Khanate, worshippers of the sky from far away.
North of Bolghar lands is... chaos, to put it simply. A hundred different chieftains do battle against a hundred different khans. Only the one-eyed "Whining Ilmenian" Rodislav of Novgorod has had any real success in the north of this turbulent land.
________________________________________________________________________________________
For Christendom as a whole, in spite of the controversy gripping the Romans, in spite of the growing divides between east and west, even in spite of Muslims in Iberia and Arabia, there was peace.
Until one seemingly average April morning in Rome. Pope Innocentus had attended morning prayer like every other day and save for wild rumours and the occasional letter from Childeric III of some nondescript barbarian kings fighting over frozen wastelands, all was good in Christ's domain.
Then came the crack of thunder...
A terrified cleric burst into a meeting, screaming frantically about the Tiber. The Pope ventured outside to see what had traumatised the cleric. That was when he too felt the sting of fear.
Scores of longboats sailed towards the city below a dark storm, singing songs of blood and plunder, of heathen gods and the world's end. At the head of the leading ship stood a man, clad in heavy woolen breeches, howling at the sky.
Rome burned that day. Though the city would recover as it had after many a sacking, countless wealth was stolen, hundreds were slain or enslaved and the city mourned for it's Most Holy. Innocentus hadn't even survived to see the sacking, the Pope's heart gave out as he witnessed the arrival of the Norse reavers.
Fear spread like a wildfire across all Christianity, from the highland tribes of Pictland to the pilgrims in Jerusalem. Stories of pagan warlords making eagles of blood out of devout bishops and carrying the womenfolk away to plunder their virtue were told in every hall, every tavern. Some were true, some were great exaggerations, others were lies, but there was one absolute truth at the dawn of the 9th Century:
The Age of the Viking had begun.
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Bizarre goings on with the borders of Francia. Will be interested to see how they evolve as the Carolingians and the Merovingians do their thing. Good also to see the start of the Viking age! That will make for some fun in the British Isles no doubt.
Good update. Very pleased to see the Merovingians restored to their throne, as that almost never happens in my experience.
Let's hope the start of the Viking age provides some opportunities to reclaim land from a weakened Pictland and Northumbria.
Let's hope the start of the Viking age provides some opportunities to reclaim land from a weakened Pictland and Northumbria.
I've never seen the Merovingians regain France before so it came as a surprise. Happened relatively early as well, at least before Owain and Gisela married in Chapter I. What surprised me even more is that the Charlemagne storyline events kept going and Karloman "died of an illness" to give Karl Middle Francia. Needless to say that the Karlings haven't quite hit the level of influence they had historically.
I'd considered it, its not shown in the update but the Picts have already created the duchy of Lothian/Gododdin and its only a matter of time before they try to seize Dunbar from the Northumbrians.
Chapter IV - Y Gododdin (800-810)
Chapter IV - Y Gododdin (800-810)
The poem of Y Gododdin holds much importance to the heritage of the Brythonic peoples, both Cumbric and Welsh. Especially in Alt Clut, where the bard Aneirin is theorised to have been born. It tells the story of the three hundred men of Din Eidyn and their ill-fated war to defeat the Anglian kingdom of Bernicia, ending in the death of all but Aneirin himself and the absorption of Gododdin into Bernicia itself.
Two centuries on, another bard had found great inspiration from the efforts of Aneirin's comrades. This one however was a newly widowed king, coming to grips with his own mortality. Owain was no longer the brown haired firebrand who roused the men of the Rock, brown had given way to grey and then began to recede completely and his beard was long and twisted.
His reactions to the rise of the Vikings were fairly muted, merely betrothing two of his daughters off to the heirs of Connachta and Cornwall to lay the foundations of future alliances. In truth he held little concern for the threat of raiders, the Rock was a bastion and even the rest of his lands were well fortified. He held even less concern over the rising power of the Saxon hegemony, who's mighty Grand Chief Hesso had subjugated the kingdom of the Danes to his north. No matter how many men he could cut down in a single blow, no matter how feared he was, Hesso was an old man, his heir was a mere stripling and so long as his ilk did not take inspiration from their kin who once invaded the shores of Britannia, why should he be worry?
No, Owain's concerns lied with the future ahead and the continuation of his dream. He knew he would never live to see the borders of Hen Ogledd restored. But he could at least lay down the groundwork for his heirs. Starting with Gododdin, the old kingdom had long since been under Northumbria's hold, but the resurgence of Alt Clut had allowed the Picts to seize two of the three counties shortly after they forced Dál Riata into submission. While his chancellor worked on linking Owain's claim to Gododdin to a usable state, the aging king dedicated the next few years if his life to his poetry. One such surviving poem was performed at a new years festival in 802, "Ffion" appears to refer to a possible lover that the king had turned to after Gisela's death, although there remains no evidence that Owain remarried or that any children were born to him after Tewdrig a decade prior.
The bulk of Owain's survivng work is from this four year period, which ended when two strokes of good fortune arrived. In 804, King Canuall of Pictland was slain in battle during an attempt to place his wife as Queen of Mercia. His son Erbin was given the crown, but he too remained in Mercia to continue his late fathers war. It was now that the chancellor returned from the county of Guendoleu, which the Picts called Heluua, with a claim cementing the region as the rightful territory of Alt Clut. While Owain would have preferred to wait until said claim could be extended to Din Eidyn, the old Gododdin capital, he knew an oppourtunity when he saw it.
The armies were mustered once more and Queen Non's own forces were requested, which she gladly sent north to aid their faithful ally. An army of over three thousand quickly marched into Guendoleu and took it with little effort. Din Eidyn quickly follows suit with nary a whisper of Erbin turning his armies north to relieve his lands. The king seems deadset on crowning his own mother. This same non-resistance continues until one cold morning in february, when Æthelburh is found lying in a pool of blood with a dagger embedded in her throat. Whether it was an assassin on the Mercian payroll or an attempt by the Pictish chieftains to get Erbin to defend his homeland, it has the desired effect as the King finally returns north in a forced march, much to the ire of his men, already weary from several years fighting a pointless war.
What followed was one of the more well recorded battles of the Early Medieval Period.
Owain intercepted the ailing Picts at Dul Blaan, outnumbering the Picts three to one. The highland warriors stood their ground regardless, tired as they are, they would still best any sorry lowlander in melee. The melody of twelve hundred arrows sailing through the air was as effective a counter-argument as any. The battle lasts a mere hour before the Pictish lines break and flee, having lost over half their number to the Brythonic arrows while slaying less than a hundred in kind. Owain lets them retreat, they have been humbled enough for today. Not that it prevents him from composing a poem hailing the might of the Britons a week later.
For the latter half of the year, little save a protracted siege of Circinn occurs, the capital falling in October. Erbin grows desperate, attempting to liberate Guendoleu with eight hundred fresh men. It is still not enough as the Britons overwhelm them at Maelruusan on a snow heavy Christmas Eve.
Erbin surrenders Guendoleu to Owain the next day in exchange for a ten year peace. Knowing he is unlikely to live to see it's end, Owain agrees. Peace falls upon northern Britain once more.
At least until May, when Owain finds that he has perhaps underestimated the drive of the Saxons and their Norsemen kin. It is not a lust of battle and plunder that they follow, it is an urge to conquer, to claim glory in the name of their gods. One such conquerer was Tryggve, who had recently subjugated the last independent Bretons and now turned his sights to the slowly recovering Pictland.
It must have been a bitter pill for Erbin to swallow, when most of the other christian nations of the Isles would prefer to aid his former enemy in Mercia against a similar invasion, that the only offer of aid came from the man who had stolen part of his land from him not half a year prior. Had circumstances been different, he would have likely burned the letter from Owain. But when seven thousand barbarians land on your shores, even the most hated enemy can become a stalwart ally.
While Circinn burns, Owain meets with a scattered force of Picts led by Erbin. Together the three thousand strong force attempts to pass through Dul Blaan to attack the smaller Norseman army at Fortriu. Tryggve catches up to them first.
The Norsemen seem endless, for every one that falls to Briton arrows, two more appear to gut a Pict each with enormous curved axes. Only the steady arrival of Highlander reinforcements begin to turn the tide as the day drags on. As the sun begins to dip towards the horizon, the Jarl's center suddenly retreats from the melee. Erpin, believing the day to be won, gives chase. As the flanks of the two armies continue to battle, a tremendous battlecry echoes from the forest that the Jarl at first appeared to be retreating to. The Vikings that had meant to still be in the highlands burst from cover, taking Erpin's men by surprise. At the same time, the allied right flank gives way as losses become too great, the newly freed left flank of their foes turning and slamming into the advancing Picts. As Erpin barely escapes with as many men as he can salvage, what remains is caught within the jaws of the wolf and slaughtered, sacrificed so that the Owain and Erpin can recover their strength. They have lost sixteen hundred men between them.
Tryggve turns his attention to besieging Fife and Din Eidyn, again splitting his forces apart. The winter sieges give enough time for another five hundred men from Powys to join the allies, pushing their number up to five thousand as the last scattered highlanders fall into line with their kin. Another stroke of good fortune occurs when the Norsemen at Fife, the smaller of the two invading armies, is led into an ambush, losing five hundred and routing the remaining nine. As the emboldened Kings march to Abercarn, a messenger hands Owain a letter, the poet king smiles to himself, everything is coming into place.
The Battle of Abercarn in April plays out much as Dul Blaan did, except the Britons are the dominant force, no aid arrives for Tryggve and when his men retreat, this time it is real. Over the next year, a rout at Iuenlan and one final defeat at Maluoc Sant dull Tryggve's ambition. And with the Merovingian beast rousing at the smell of weakness on it's borders, he makes peace with the Picts in January of 808.
For the next twenty months, Owain oversaw the rebuilding of his forces and the growing propserity in Alt Clut. Yet his thoughts remained on Gododdin. Din Eidyn he would have to leave to Caradog, but as snow came early in October of 809, Owain knew he had one fight left within him. Din Baer was still held by his lifelong enemy, Northumbria.
The Northumbrians were the first to act, a thousand men crossing into Guendoleu on December 1st. They were met with three thousand Britons, Owain at their head. Battle was made, but as the first arrows were fired, the king collapsed, clutching at his heart. While he was evacuated from the field, alive but weak, word spread like wildfire that the king was dead. The remaining commanders failed to contain the panic, and it quickly gave way to utter chaos. One flank charges while another fled, the Northumbrians taking full advantage of the panic by annihilating the charging flank. By the dawn of the 2nd, the Britons had long since scattered, regrouping in Nofant as the King's condition remained uncertain.
A week passed and Owain's tightness in the chest is joined by severe coughing fits and a high fever. His lifelong friend and court chaplain, Bishop Pasgen of Croes Rhygal (Who was likely the closest thing to a physician in Alt Clut), diagnoses his malady as pneumonia.
His advisors Pasgen and, arriving alongside his wife and seven hundred Welshmen, Caradog both request that the king be returned to Alt Clut to recover from his sickness. Owain would have none of it, displaying for one final time what his people had begun to call the "stalwart soul of Old King Owain" in his insistence if he was not to lead his men in this campaign, then he would at least see it to completion from the sidelines.
And so it fell to Caradog and Non to lead Alt Clut's armies, which they accomplish spectacularly in February of 810 when they returned to Guendoleu and forced the Angles out of the county. With little resistance on the path to Dunbar, Caradog prepared to besiege the county.
A month into the siege, on a sunny March evening, Owain's bodyguard enters his tent, announcing that he has brought the King's evening meal.
He gets no response from the huddle of furs lying atop the bed.
Assuming the aged king is asleep, he goes to gently shake his liege to wake him.
What he finds is the cold body of Owain II, the pneumonia having claimed him in his sleep.
Stumbling back in shock and dawning realisation, the bodyguard bolts out of the tent, shouting not only for Pasgen, but for the new king.
"Men went to Gododdin, laughter-inciting,
Bitter in battle, with blades set for war.
Brief the year they were at peace.
The son of Bodgad, by the deeds of his hand
did slaughter.
Though they went to churches to do penance,
The young, the old, the lowly, the strong,
True is the tale, death oer’took them."
Bitter in battle, with blades set for war.
Brief the year they were at peace.
The son of Bodgad, by the deeds of his hand
did slaughter.
Though they went to churches to do penance,
The young, the old, the lowly, the strong,
True is the tale, death oer’took them."
The poem of Y Gododdin holds much importance to the heritage of the Brythonic peoples, both Cumbric and Welsh. Especially in Alt Clut, where the bard Aneirin is theorised to have been born. It tells the story of the three hundred men of Din Eidyn and their ill-fated war to defeat the Anglian kingdom of Bernicia, ending in the death of all but Aneirin himself and the absorption of Gododdin into Bernicia itself.
Two centuries on, another bard had found great inspiration from the efforts of Aneirin's comrades. This one however was a newly widowed king, coming to grips with his own mortality. Owain was no longer the brown haired firebrand who roused the men of the Rock, brown had given way to grey and then began to recede completely and his beard was long and twisted.
His reactions to the rise of the Vikings were fairly muted, merely betrothing two of his daughters off to the heirs of Connachta and Cornwall to lay the foundations of future alliances. In truth he held little concern for the threat of raiders, the Rock was a bastion and even the rest of his lands were well fortified. He held even less concern over the rising power of the Saxon hegemony, who's mighty Grand Chief Hesso had subjugated the kingdom of the Danes to his north. No matter how many men he could cut down in a single blow, no matter how feared he was, Hesso was an old man, his heir was a mere stripling and so long as his ilk did not take inspiration from their kin who once invaded the shores of Britannia, why should he be worry?
No, Owain's concerns lied with the future ahead and the continuation of his dream. He knew he would never live to see the borders of Hen Ogledd restored. But he could at least lay down the groundwork for his heirs. Starting with Gododdin, the old kingdom had long since been under Northumbria's hold, but the resurgence of Alt Clut had allowed the Picts to seize two of the three counties shortly after they forced Dál Riata into submission. While his chancellor worked on linking Owain's claim to Gododdin to a usable state, the aging king dedicated the next few years if his life to his poetry. One such surviving poem was performed at a new years festival in 802, "Ffion" appears to refer to a possible lover that the king had turned to after Gisela's death, although there remains no evidence that Owain remarried or that any children were born to him after Tewdrig a decade prior.
The armies were mustered once more and Queen Non's own forces were requested, which she gladly sent north to aid their faithful ally. An army of over three thousand quickly marched into Guendoleu and took it with little effort. Din Eidyn quickly follows suit with nary a whisper of Erbin turning his armies north to relieve his lands. The king seems deadset on crowning his own mother. This same non-resistance continues until one cold morning in february, when Æthelburh is found lying in a pool of blood with a dagger embedded in her throat. Whether it was an assassin on the Mercian payroll or an attempt by the Pictish chieftains to get Erbin to defend his homeland, it has the desired effect as the King finally returns north in a forced march, much to the ire of his men, already weary from several years fighting a pointless war.
What followed was one of the more well recorded battles of the Early Medieval Period.
Owain intercepted the ailing Picts at Dul Blaan, outnumbering the Picts three to one. The highland warriors stood their ground regardless, tired as they are, they would still best any sorry lowlander in melee. The melody of twelve hundred arrows sailing through the air was as effective a counter-argument as any. The battle lasts a mere hour before the Pictish lines break and flee, having lost over half their number to the Brythonic arrows while slaying less than a hundred in kind. Owain lets them retreat, they have been humbled enough for today. Not that it prevents him from composing a poem hailing the might of the Britons a week later.
For the latter half of the year, little save a protracted siege of Circinn occurs, the capital falling in October. Erbin grows desperate, attempting to liberate Guendoleu with eight hundred fresh men. It is still not enough as the Britons overwhelm them at Maelruusan on a snow heavy Christmas Eve.
Erbin surrenders Guendoleu to Owain the next day in exchange for a ten year peace. Knowing he is unlikely to live to see it's end, Owain agrees. Peace falls upon northern Britain once more.
At least until May, when Owain finds that he has perhaps underestimated the drive of the Saxons and their Norsemen kin. It is not a lust of battle and plunder that they follow, it is an urge to conquer, to claim glory in the name of their gods. One such conquerer was Tryggve, who had recently subjugated the last independent Bretons and now turned his sights to the slowly recovering Pictland.
It must have been a bitter pill for Erbin to swallow, when most of the other christian nations of the Isles would prefer to aid his former enemy in Mercia against a similar invasion, that the only offer of aid came from the man who had stolen part of his land from him not half a year prior. Had circumstances been different, he would have likely burned the letter from Owain. But when seven thousand barbarians land on your shores, even the most hated enemy can become a stalwart ally.
While Circinn burns, Owain meets with a scattered force of Picts led by Erbin. Together the three thousand strong force attempts to pass through Dul Blaan to attack the smaller Norseman army at Fortriu. Tryggve catches up to them first.
The Norsemen seem endless, for every one that falls to Briton arrows, two more appear to gut a Pict each with enormous curved axes. Only the steady arrival of Highlander reinforcements begin to turn the tide as the day drags on. As the sun begins to dip towards the horizon, the Jarl's center suddenly retreats from the melee. Erpin, believing the day to be won, gives chase. As the flanks of the two armies continue to battle, a tremendous battlecry echoes from the forest that the Jarl at first appeared to be retreating to. The Vikings that had meant to still be in the highlands burst from cover, taking Erpin's men by surprise. At the same time, the allied right flank gives way as losses become too great, the newly freed left flank of their foes turning and slamming into the advancing Picts. As Erpin barely escapes with as many men as he can salvage, what remains is caught within the jaws of the wolf and slaughtered, sacrificed so that the Owain and Erpin can recover their strength. They have lost sixteen hundred men between them.
Tryggve turns his attention to besieging Fife and Din Eidyn, again splitting his forces apart. The winter sieges give enough time for another five hundred men from Powys to join the allies, pushing their number up to five thousand as the last scattered highlanders fall into line with their kin. Another stroke of good fortune occurs when the Norsemen at Fife, the smaller of the two invading armies, is led into an ambush, losing five hundred and routing the remaining nine. As the emboldened Kings march to Abercarn, a messenger hands Owain a letter, the poet king smiles to himself, everything is coming into place.
The Battle of Abercarn in April plays out much as Dul Blaan did, except the Britons are the dominant force, no aid arrives for Tryggve and when his men retreat, this time it is real. Over the next year, a rout at Iuenlan and one final defeat at Maluoc Sant dull Tryggve's ambition. And with the Merovingian beast rousing at the smell of weakness on it's borders, he makes peace with the Picts in January of 808.
For the next twenty months, Owain oversaw the rebuilding of his forces and the growing propserity in Alt Clut. Yet his thoughts remained on Gododdin. Din Eidyn he would have to leave to Caradog, but as snow came early in October of 809, Owain knew he had one fight left within him. Din Baer was still held by his lifelong enemy, Northumbria.
The Northumbrians were the first to act, a thousand men crossing into Guendoleu on December 1st. They were met with three thousand Britons, Owain at their head. Battle was made, but as the first arrows were fired, the king collapsed, clutching at his heart. While he was evacuated from the field, alive but weak, word spread like wildfire that the king was dead. The remaining commanders failed to contain the panic, and it quickly gave way to utter chaos. One flank charges while another fled, the Northumbrians taking full advantage of the panic by annihilating the charging flank. By the dawn of the 2nd, the Britons had long since scattered, regrouping in Nofant as the King's condition remained uncertain.
A week passed and Owain's tightness in the chest is joined by severe coughing fits and a high fever. His lifelong friend and court chaplain, Bishop Pasgen of Croes Rhygal (Who was likely the closest thing to a physician in Alt Clut), diagnoses his malady as pneumonia.
His advisors Pasgen and, arriving alongside his wife and seven hundred Welshmen, Caradog both request that the king be returned to Alt Clut to recover from his sickness. Owain would have none of it, displaying for one final time what his people had begun to call the "stalwart soul of Old King Owain" in his insistence if he was not to lead his men in this campaign, then he would at least see it to completion from the sidelines.
A month into the siege, on a sunny March evening, Owain's bodyguard enters his tent, announcing that he has brought the King's evening meal.
He gets no response from the huddle of furs lying atop the bed.
Assuming the aged king is asleep, he goes to gently shake his liege to wake him.
What he finds is the cold body of Owain II, the pneumonia having claimed him in his sleep.
Stumbling back in shock and dawning realisation, the bodyguard bolts out of the tent, shouting not only for Pasgen, but for the new king.
"He pierced three hundred, most bold,
He cut down the centre and wing.
He was worthy before the noblest host,
He gave from his herd horses in winter.
He fed black ravens on the wall
Of the fortress, although he was not Arthur."
He cut down the centre and wing.
He was worthy before the noblest host,
He gave from his herd horses in winter.
He fed black ravens on the wall
Of the fortress, although he was not Arthur."
A sad end for Owain but he leaves a good legacy. Here’s hoping Caradog lives up to his promise.
I guess we'll be expecting big things for Caradog. Let's hope we can rid of some of those negative traits - especially Stressed.
He had a fairly good innings, when all is said and done. But when the umpire's finger rises one has to walk back to the pavilion.
Chapter V - Merry Men (810-815)
Chapter V - Merry Men (810-815)
At face value, King Caradog would seem like the perfect successor to Old King Owain. The legends and the few preserved accounts describe him as "A tall, powerfully built warrior, his brown hair braided and long, with azure eyes that burned with a fierce intelligence."
Truthfully, he was a fairly lacking heir to the throne. Of his martial might, nothing could be debated, the siege of Din Baer and his victory in Guendoleu, where he sent two hundred Angles to the grave with the loss of a mere seven men proved that to all men of Britannia.
But his arbitrary nature and complacency during his time in Powys was known even in Northumbria, as was his merciless treatment of his enemies. The citizens of Bamburgh doubtlessly learned that as the city was pillaged by his men.
Tyninghame confirmed once and for all that Din Baer was the rightful territory of Alt Clut, Queen Wulfthryth could doubtlessly cope with the loss of a minor county when the Sacker of Rome was storming onto your shoreline to conquer your entire kingdom.
Whilst Mercia and Northumbria burned, Caradog ruled his kingdom in relative peace. Relative meaning that it was his council who oversaw the day to day running while the king was off on hunt after hunt. While murmurings of heresy in Din Baer occupied his Chaplain, Caradog was mastering the art of falconry alongside Non. As Erbin of the Picts had a fatal heart attack, Caradog first set off on one of his hunt to slay the fabled White Stag.
Of course, to call Caradog a bad king would be inaccurate. He would eventually grow more suitably into his role as King. But when Caradog first took the throne, he was a poor steward, much more comfortable with a bow in hand and prey to hunt.
The catalyst that sparked his growth likely coincided with the beginnings of the legend of Robin Hood.
The folk hero Robin Hood first appears in stories and poems in the late 10th century, but he is highly likely to be based on Robin of Inglewood, who first appears in surviving texts c.813.
The historical accuracy of the story is debatable of course, it has been embellished and exaggerated over the years, especially by the Inglewood family themselves. But it at the very least provides the best possible look at the early years of Caradog's reign.
To retell the story in an abridged form:
The king is forced to depart from his domain for many months to do battle with a rebels on the Din Baer frontier. So his brother, known only in the tale as "the Sheriff of Nofant", a figure that is almost certainly Tewdrig, uses the King's absence to lord over the commonfolk as a tyrant.
Then enters Robin, leading a band of Merry Men into Alt Clut ostensibly to aid the people against the Sheriff's thugs. It is more likely that Robin, who was said to have lived as a minor landholder in the Cumbrian valley, and his band were refugees fleeing from the viking marauders in Northumbria. They partake in the poaching of deer from the King's lands and retake the ill gotten goods of the Sheriff in an act of low level rebellion.
When the king returns from Din Baer in 815, the Sheriff obscures the truth, telling him that it is Robin who is terrorising the people. Together they plan to trap the poachers, organising a contest of archery to goad Robin, famed for his skill with a bow.
The bait is seemingly taken and clad in green, Robin attends the contest. He dominates the proceedings, scoring perfect shots again and again. Then as the Sheriff begins to give the order to his men, Caradog approaches the green-clad stranger with his own bow.
The king states that Robin and his band are to be arrested for crimes against the crown, -if- Caradog is able to best him in marksmanship. Robin takes the gamble and agrees. Every tale praises Caradog's own skill with a bow, proving to almost be Robin's equal as shot after shot is a tie. On the final shot, Robin proves to be the superior archer, besting the king and winning his freedom.
It is then that the king does something that none had expected. He lets out a booming laugh, praising Robin as champion and announcing that he will hire both Robin and his band as gamekeepers.
The furious Sheriff protests, but the king reveals that he had never trusted his brother and knew all along that he was lying, firing him on the spot. The now ex-sheriff flees, loudly pronouncing his hatred for his brother.
At a feast that evening, Robin reveals his erstwhile companion and love, Marion of the Bell, who he is married to there and then under an April sunset. Robin also reveals that he is the last descendant of the kings of Rheged, the great grandson of a granddaughter of Urien, who was hidden away as the Angles stole it two centuries prior. The king sees an opportunity, a way to advance the dream he had reluctantly adopted. So there, as the stars begin to shine down upon the stalwart Rock of Cluith, Caradog swears to Robin that he or his heirs will one day restore Rheged and the rightful heir will receive it.
Of course, it is highly unlikely that Robin was a descendant of the kings of Rheged, the historical claim may well have been another ambitious gamble. Indeed the entire tale may be false, as much as the de Inglewoods would deny it. Regardless, it was one that both Caradog and Robin were willing to exploit, Robin for power and Caradog to carry out his father's task. Indeed, the entire tale of Robin and Caradog is one of the most iconic legends of the North for that exact reason: That it is yet another extension of the dream of Old King Owain, one that continues to affect the world as we know it even in modern times.
At face value, King Caradog would seem like the perfect successor to Old King Owain. The legends and the few preserved accounts describe him as "A tall, powerfully built warrior, his brown hair braided and long, with azure eyes that burned with a fierce intelligence."
Truthfully, he was a fairly lacking heir to the throne. Of his martial might, nothing could be debated, the siege of Din Baer and his victory in Guendoleu, where he sent two hundred Angles to the grave with the loss of a mere seven men proved that to all men of Britannia.
But his arbitrary nature and complacency during his time in Powys was known even in Northumbria, as was his merciless treatment of his enemies. The citizens of Bamburgh doubtlessly learned that as the city was pillaged by his men.
Tyninghame confirmed once and for all that Din Baer was the rightful territory of Alt Clut, Queen Wulfthryth could doubtlessly cope with the loss of a minor county when the Sacker of Rome was storming onto your shoreline to conquer your entire kingdom.
Whilst Mercia and Northumbria burned, Caradog ruled his kingdom in relative peace. Relative meaning that it was his council who oversaw the day to day running while the king was off on hunt after hunt. While murmurings of heresy in Din Baer occupied his Chaplain, Caradog was mastering the art of falconry alongside Non. As Erbin of the Picts had a fatal heart attack, Caradog first set off on one of his hunt to slay the fabled White Stag.
Of course, to call Caradog a bad king would be inaccurate. He would eventually grow more suitably into his role as King. But when Caradog first took the throne, he was a poor steward, much more comfortable with a bow in hand and prey to hunt.
The catalyst that sparked his growth likely coincided with the beginnings of the legend of Robin Hood.
The folk hero Robin Hood first appears in stories and poems in the late 10th century, but he is highly likely to be based on Robin of Inglewood, who first appears in surviving texts c.813.
The historical accuracy of the story is debatable of course, it has been embellished and exaggerated over the years, especially by the Inglewood family themselves. But it at the very least provides the best possible look at the early years of Caradog's reign.
To retell the story in an abridged form:
The king is forced to depart from his domain for many months to do battle with a rebels on the Din Baer frontier. So his brother, known only in the tale as "the Sheriff of Nofant", a figure that is almost certainly Tewdrig, uses the King's absence to lord over the commonfolk as a tyrant.
When the king returns from Din Baer in 815, the Sheriff obscures the truth, telling him that it is Robin who is terrorising the people. Together they plan to trap the poachers, organising a contest of archery to goad Robin, famed for his skill with a bow.
The bait is seemingly taken and clad in green, Robin attends the contest. He dominates the proceedings, scoring perfect shots again and again. Then as the Sheriff begins to give the order to his men, Caradog approaches the green-clad stranger with his own bow.
The king states that Robin and his band are to be arrested for crimes against the crown, -if- Caradog is able to best him in marksmanship. Robin takes the gamble and agrees. Every tale praises Caradog's own skill with a bow, proving to almost be Robin's equal as shot after shot is a tie. On the final shot, Robin proves to be the superior archer, besting the king and winning his freedom.
It is then that the king does something that none had expected. He lets out a booming laugh, praising Robin as champion and announcing that he will hire both Robin and his band as gamekeepers.
The furious Sheriff protests, but the king reveals that he had never trusted his brother and knew all along that he was lying, firing him on the spot. The now ex-sheriff flees, loudly pronouncing his hatred for his brother.
At a feast that evening, Robin reveals his erstwhile companion and love, Marion of the Bell, who he is married to there and then under an April sunset. Robin also reveals that he is the last descendant of the kings of Rheged, the great grandson of a granddaughter of Urien, who was hidden away as the Angles stole it two centuries prior. The king sees an opportunity, a way to advance the dream he had reluctantly adopted. So there, as the stars begin to shine down upon the stalwart Rock of Cluith, Caradog swears to Robin that he or his heirs will one day restore Rheged and the rightful heir will receive it.
Of course, it is highly unlikely that Robin was a descendant of the kings of Rheged, the historical claim may well have been another ambitious gamble. Indeed the entire tale may be false, as much as the de Inglewoods would deny it. Regardless, it was one that both Caradog and Robin were willing to exploit, Robin for power and Caradog to carry out his father's task. Indeed, the entire tale of Robin and Caradog is one of the most iconic legends of the North for that exact reason: That it is yet another extension of the dream of Old King Owain, one that continues to affect the world as we know it even in modern times.
Rhys Powell,
'A History of Old North folktales and their Historical Basis.' c.1826
'A History of Old North folktales and their Historical Basis.' c.1826
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Great update. I love the Robin Hood event chain, I remember when I first got it I was playing as a steppe nomad so it was wonderfully out of place. 
Thank you kindly! Theres actually a fun little tidbit about this update, I managed to merge Robin Hood with a similar Cumbrian folk hero called Adam Bell, who lived in the Inglewood.Great update. I love the Robin Hood event chain, I remember when I first got it I was playing as a steppe nomad so it was wonderfully out of place.
Nice AAR. I've always been somewhat fascinated with the Britons of Alt Clut.
The Steppe being famous for its forests that bandits can hide in, of course..
Great update. I love the Robin Hood event chain, I remember when I first got it I was playing as a steppe nomad so it was wonderfully out of place.
The Steppe being famous for its forests that bandits can hide in, of course.
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The Steppe being famous for its forests that bandits can hide in, of course.
I like to imagine they simply leapt out from the small grass to surprise unsuspecting merchants.
