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Letter to Brother Alvric of Auldchester, Archdruid of Jorvik, in the year 673 of our Saviour,
I pray to the gods that, this letter finds you well and in good health, high-brother as you well know the great battle of Dun Brunde, of the year 611 S.D., is the greatest battle of our great nation. One which the Caleds have since claimed as their victory, a false acclamation on their part, for how could such barbarous people, have possibly defeated our good unifier-king? This poem, which it is hoped will appeal to his most recent successor, and appeal to his knowledge of our vast superiority o’er the Caleds in the north.
Ever yours, Brother Ealric of the monastery near Mt-Artorvion,
Dun Brunde
I
Great in din and terrifying in vision,
Unnumbered the thunder of a thousand shield-walls,
Thrice that number leapt the spears of those under the griffons,
High as the wind this banner was before its fall,
Many a-cries and bellows uttered by ten thousand mouths,
The mighty sword-bearers of Causantín come south,
Blade sung under the lion-banner,
Led by Cináed Red-Blade son of wise old Causantín,
High flung was this banner,
From south came high-browed Æthelwulf,
Served by thirty and thousand times that number of vassals,
II
O Æthelwulf king and lord,
Ring-giver and keeper of the Wyvern-hoard,
Chief son of Eadmund Land-Taker,
Brother of Æðelric Keep-Grabber,
Æðelbert Blade-Dancer and Pæga Caledslayer,
Highest of kings – conqueror of Ergyng,
Heir of the Wyvern-Standard set forth hatchet high – that of Blaurung,
The Giant drake’s scaled-axe tearing asunder the sons of Achaius,
III
Thrice didst brave Wynstan swing his blade,
Twice wouldst Friðþjófr parry,
The leal sword-bearer of Arnór didst then – for death did he trade,
Jorvik’s ne’er to regain her merry,
Slew with the sword edge that bent the great drinker,
Fell’d the Arnsons brake the shield-biters,
Rally the wolf-banners wrothful Végarðr doom-bringer,
All the field did he water with the blood of the men of Clayfter,
IV
Flow’d thick and wide,
Doom’d to the light-lord’s halls,
Head torn asunder as the shield-walls
as wert the brothers Wulfric and Wynstan,
Charge furiously didst Gwallter decide,
Spear in hand spearing Tryggve’s hide,
Long wert the songs of the Tigruns,
Great his courage and fierce the east front-charge,
Brothers in wars inseparable in battle the sons of Cymru and Britia,
Bearing the red-drake banner,
Illtyd mab Dalwyn who fell’d first before his prince to Talorcan mac Talorcan,
V
His banner fallen Berwyn of the daffodil-throne bellow’d; ‘to me, o sons of Cymrus the White! Remember thy noble fathirs and deeds,’
Forward and onward leap’d the warriors who his bravery echo’d,
None roar’d louder than stalwart Bevan the Bold,
Blading, gelding, slaying Talorcan and his fair brother Duff the Gold,
Flow’d the blood of half the sons of Carreyrn’s good laird,
VI
‘Thick as wine flows the joyous taste of Caled blood!
spake prince Delwyn uncle to the heir of Cymrus,
As the heir smote Domnall, Aed, Talorcan and Duff his blade crimson in the rainfall,
Bound by old-oaths to the long-armed son of Cymrus,
How could he fall with his brother unto the hands’ of Iowerth son of a thrall?
VII
Suns alight didst they upon Strathclarde’s crown,
Upon the Brunde fields a thousand-thousand men of Strathclarde afield,
Gold of hair and thrice Æthelwulf’s height,
Wert bullish Malvin ring-giver of Strathclarde
Cut shoulder to crown,
Split apart by the noblest and kingliest of Brittian steel!
VIII
The suns aloft, brightest Cináed shone,
Son of Causantín, highest of Caleds and handsome of face,
The scarlet-lion engraved into his armour as unto his bones,
Shining as a third white-sun – shone o silver Saorsa that Cymran sons’ lives awaits,
Fear him and flee o foes of Caleds – for none who have faced the Vestran blade have ever sung e’er after the tale!
IX
Undaunt’d by sleet, rain or Brittian blades,
Highest of northern princes, mightiest light of the freest of Bretwealda’s sons,
His good-brother of Strawthern the lesser Cináed, First-Sword of kings, Ildulb the Staid,
Who fell upon the blade of the Cymrans in the fields of the Dun,
His good prince the avenger of Carreyrn agleam with rightness,
O tragedy of tragedies for green-fielded Cymru – to lose her fair pater in Brunde’s vastness!
X
Many a-cries follow wert there,
Many a men who trod forward wi’ steel bare,
The western clash between Brittia and Ergyng’s heroes a thousand years hence shalt be hear’d,
Ergyng final king snow-hair’d Talfryn,
Who bade his heroes bow’d the Brittian-herd,
Sword the southron chins,
The unbow’d black-falcon blade aloft trouncing man and air,
XI
Unmatch’d, untaunt’d be the finest of Neustria’s falcons,
His the same name of North-Agenor’s greatest jewel,
Heir by right of Éluan’s marble thrones,
Wyvern-Standard’s bare’d talons,
Armour dark as a devil,
Shield-wall a mile far north to the wolf,
Western-wing torn asunder upon Aymon’s gallop,
Ergyng’s king torn from his father’s lands by a-gulf,
XII
Sea-drake both old and new be naught save a feast to Aymon iron-heart’d’s steel,
As grieving co-king the faithful Cadwalader the Leal,
A cry upon his lips blade aloft in futile fury,
Death his only thought blade a-flurry,
Neustria’s exil’d prince death’s embassy unto Ergyng’s men
XIII
Brake the sea-drake’s walls didst the Silver-falcon,
Leon his name who ever by his brother’s side,
Drake-hunting spearing all before them,
Charge the riders an appeal to one-eye and the wolves by his side,
Wroth-red Eindriði king of Ériu his huscarls about him,
Twice-headed axe dyed crimson with Brittian blood.
XIV
Built the north shield-walls Einarr the king-brother,
Banner-bearer of the Harper-king he thus struck by Uther,
Who then fell’d upon Kálfr sword-prince’s blade’d,
Lurch on Aymon to strike at him unafrai’d,
Prince for prince – on eto stand tall, another ne’er again,
Hallstein the Tall side with side to Wischard Headsplitter – who wrothful sword’d upon him in vain,
XV
A thousand and one heads struck,
Along as many months didst Wischard,
Feroious as a bear with a brass-heart,
Not a one hammer-blow struck,
Forever leal Leon swift-bladed,
Victory near as suns-light faded,
Why o why must Edda Thunder-thrower have appear’d?
XVI
Unhorse, unhorse and a-fled were they of Aemilian joy,
Hares broken by Edda’s fury,
Unchallenged save for mage sisters; Rhonwen and Rhosyn,
One red another a golden, both young - one morose another Iowerth’s joy,
Unvarnished by age as by the storm’s fury,
Through the eye of the eye of the tempest thrust the air-blades,
XVII
O where did Rhonwen fall? O where could Iorvern’s mother hath vanish’d?
They were two; Edda one yet brake their magic as she did unto their father,
Rejoice long did the mage-slayer,
Unseen by the wolf-wyverns wert the witch’s daughter,
Unblind by sea and storm wert Rhonwen’s delight – the gargan-slayer!
XVIII
Spear the redeemed sorceress,
Magic fail’d her as it did Madoc,
Iowerth the avenger thereon struck she who once deliver’d him from fort Harloc,
Loss’s dart as the mistletoe’s thrust into his breast,
As Aed; Edda’s pupil-son fell before him also,
Woe unto twilight year’d Causantín – who best belov’d his golden son,
XIX
Brokkr Poetson silver tongued king-friend fell,
Dwarf harper of Jorvik cut apart at Æthelwulf’s mighty sword,
Followed along Orcus’s river by the princess of Jorvik Dagmar horse-breaker,
Crept east hoar-headed lady; lost as surely as her mother’s neck-worn seashell,
Fair lady lost to the crows without a word!
XX
There o’er many North-men stood the south princes,
Unmarr’d by the west javelins,
With fallen princess rode she of the drake-steel bodice,
Prince and common-men alike cut apart as wheat in a field,
Basilan leapt upon her horse to be fell’d first,
Goddess of death she appeared to Æðelric,
Valquíria shield-maiden of Norlam was she,
The mighty shield-biter struck him.
XXI
Doom’d by her pale hand wert Æðelric,
Wroth shook Æthelbert who fell next before Dagmar’s chief-maid,
Fraid became the sons of Eadmund – save the chief son,
Blaurung-blade aloft leapt Æthelwulf who fought back blade swung and with a flick,
Mighty, fair-hair’d Valquíria fled – rage broken.
XXII
Cymrans shatter’d in Brunde’s fields,
Gleaming Cináed shield-wall by his side sword’d those betwixt he and the lady-fair,
Blade upon blade – shields upon shields,
Æthelwulf eyes aflame slew the cub’s heir,
Lion or wolf but one could triumph yet which?
Witch-fog gallop’d east hoofs afire as any great travesty.
XXIII
‘Brittia’s triumph be assur’d,’ declareth the wyvern-resplendent,
Victorious wert Eadmund’s heir said he,
Caleds’ a-fright or sword upon brother-king upon attendant,
Eyes a-fog as Conall struck dead brother and friend alike didst he,
Son upon son – to save Arnór bold king who flew west
XXIV
Lost fell’d or fled,
None of the Caled princes avenged,
Unnumbered tears shed by the she-Caleds’ victory spake the sons of Brittia in song,
Many a-ears sang they of this battle from many a nights unto dawn,
The she-wyverns to have lost more men and tears
XXV
Losses unremembered as to Caled, Jorvik as to unseeing Brittian alike,
Hither moved they north of the Dun’s fields and west alike,
Split asunder along the road – the wolf’s cries unremembered,
All Caleds save one with backs to them unsurrendered,
Charg’d thither against the wyvern didst hoary-hearted Strawthern.
XXVI
Struck through by Cináed Red-Maned,
O king of wyverns chest aflame fall’d by Strawthern’s hand,
Charge the wolf-drake in vain,
Conquer the king axe in hand,
Æthelwulf fallen blood upon him undoom’d,
Five and hundreds of lances upon Cináed tore through he of the crimson hair
XXVII
Upon sunrise seven kings yet lived,
Dusk o’ersaw four who now dined in Orcus’s high-halls,
Two of Cymru be like-depriv’d,
One of Gyllrain thrown down past Erebus’s walls,
One of Ériu and another a feast for the ravens,
XXVIII
Glory! Glory to mighty Brittia who crushed the Caleds,
Who fled as surely as Arnór did before the strength of Eadmund’s son,
For whom there lay twenty five months of rises of the twin-suns,
Storm and Caled knife-swept wert Æthelwulf who doom’d had but soup for feasting
XXIX
False! False wert the old lion,
Thrice he lost sons and twice the tears of his subjects,
False oath broken but once more,
Gyllrain to the lion it went where the wyvern went a-hungry,
Twice six times didst Causantín outlive Æthelwulf.
XXX
Knives await’d Arnór and fire Cymru’s left o’er princes,
Unroyal’d Brittia throne,
A falcon-cub to seat upon it betwixt,
Sword’d Caled’s ri to another ‘till the Red-Lion’s crowning and once more after,
Thus to victors goeth the war-booty!
Superb in spite of a typo or two and a comma or two extra. Richness of language that begs to be read aloud (except that I can't pronounce the names). And a stirring tale. You seem to be creating your own genre.
I love this format!