The Celtic Fabler

By Valerie Stewart Lewis

The Saxons are massing....

Ceawlin, the Saxon war lord plans to take over the west of Briton, right through to the great river Afron Hafren and thereby control most of Briton.
The Kings of Caer Gloui, Cear Ceri and Caer Baddam join forces with their warriors, in the hopes of driving the Saxons back, they were all slain.
Angharad witnessed the great battle and saw friends and kin cut down.
She had been told to make her way to Afon Hafren, the great river, and cross over to the safety of the western mountains.
With Cynwyn, wounded grandson of Cynfael of Caer Gloui, they prepare to start their journey then meet a mysterious Briton dressed and acting as a Saxon. He offers to help but can they trust him or will he betray them?
With the wholesale slaughter of the Britons by the Saxons there are very few left to carry on the old ways.
Angharad is one of the few storytellers left and the only one who witnessed the great battle and is asked to tell it to as many of her people as she can reach to give them hope, which makes it dangerous to travel to many of the places.
Many people come to her to hear about the battle and the death of their kin. she travels far and wide telling the story, even to Rhydderch’s Northern Kingdom in the hopes of persuading the Britons to keep up the fight, but she soon discovers that it is not only the Saxons that they have to fight but also the holy men of the new religion that is sweeping through the island, forever changing their traditional way of life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valerie Stewart Lewis
• Release date: Dec 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465975591

Book preview

Part One

Angharad’s story

Fight and Flight.

Chapter 1

As I sit here on the top of the hill, I look towards the mountains, black in their distance. I know that beyond them is the great river Afon Hafren across which is my country......once it was my country. It is now Saxon held and my folk are either dead or fled, as myself, to other places, torn apart.

It began many years ago. I was coming to my seventeenth summer. The holy men now measure it by years so it was 577 years from the birth or death of their Christ, I am never sure which.

We had heard of the invasion of the Saxons and the raids and slaughter but it was well away from us. Our valley, Ystrad Argel was well hidden, not many knew the way in.

We were safe.

At least that is what we felt. We raised our sheep and cattle to our needs and grew our crops. The seasons and our festivals ruled our lives and we were happy.

Until that fateful day.

As I was looking for two hoggets, which had escaped from their pen, I spotted one of the wayward animals down in a hollow, tangled in a thicket of brambles. I found a way down through a gap in the prickly bush, working slowly so as to not to frighten the animal, slipped a noose around his neck and was working out how to get the reluctant beast back up to the top when I heard a noise.

Laughter

Strange voices

I tied the animal to a sturdy branch pulled a handful of grain from my pouch so that he would stay quiet and crept up to the edge to look over carefully.

Strange looking men sat just below the top of the ridge eating and talking, their voices hard and guttural; I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Their hair was fair, the colour of a weak winter’s sun and untidy as if uncombed for many weeks. Their dress was similar to ours but drab looking. Their tunics dark brown and tattered their breeches even darker roughly tied with laces around the legs. I kept low and looked around. Nearby their horses cropped at the grass.

Invaders

I slid back down into the hollow, removed my satchel and water flask, loosed the hogget and quietly crept out and fled the way I had come. Once I had started to run back home to the village, the momentum carried me down the mountain faster and faster until everything was a blur. I twisted and turned to avoid bushes and the trees. The village, nestled deep in the fold of the valley came into sight. How I kept my balance on the rough slopping ground I do not know. I started to gasp for air and my chest was tight, but I kept running.

I ran straight to the great hall, home of the village chief and where the elders met. I didn’t wait for protocol to admit me. I burst in and made straight for our chief.

Someone tried to stop me but my uncle Aneurin held his hand up. What is it child?

I was gasping; the words came out all jumbled

Fetch some water for her. he commanded.

A mug of water was pushed into my hand. I drank hurriedly.

Now child, speak.

Saxons…near the top ash spinney!

A silence fell on the hall. Then everyone started to talk at once. A look of amazement came over Aneurin's face, he held up his hand for silence. How many

I told everything that I had seen.

A stool was pushed forward for me and I sat, still holding the mug of water.

You have been very brave Angharad, Aneurin said. Now rest while I take council.

Aneurin called his advisers to him and they talked in lowered voices.

My grandmother came in and wrapped a shawl around my shoulders and I realised that I was shaking. I leant my head on her chest and tried to relax.

I will stay with you my dear. she whispered in my ear.

Nain, I asked quietly, what would happen if the Saxons found our valley?

I don’t know my child. We have heard of terrible slaughter and looting in other places. Who is to say that it won’t happen here? We are well hidden and that is why the village is called Ystrad Argel, the hidden vale. It will take a lot to find, all our paths have been hidden except one and only those that know the way will find that.

But those strangers were so close to reaching the top of the hills, it was only the trees at the crest that stopped them from looking over, and then it wouldn’t take long for them to find us.

I know child. she answered.

It has been decided! Aneurin announced when he returned. We shall post watchers on all the ridges and send a warning to all in the valley. There will be no fires at night for our storytelling and house fires will be lowered so no light will be shown.

This saddened me, no singing or dancing at the end of day. Already our ways were changing.

Chapter 2

The next day the village was quiet. It was as if Saxons were hiding behind every tree. Even the children hung close to their mothers. Our elders spent the day in the great hall with Aneurin discussing what was to be done.

Fighting practice was increased. Even our old warriors who had long given up their weapons started to practice again. In the early morning sun I watched them do the ritual sword dance.

The warriors would strip to the waist and wash themselves down with fresh water drawn from the spring. Then, facing the awakening sun, settling their minds and spirits, raising their arms, breathed deeply, bow their heads and asked their ancestors for help and protection in their duty. With their swords held straight out in front of them, they would pivot around on the ball of one foot in a full circle and then around the other way on the other foot. This they would do several times slowly, first one way and then the other. Soon they would become faster, still changing direction. Then, raising their swords, they would bring it down in an arc and back up again, still pivoting on the foot, first one way and then the other, swords moving around, down and back up again. Faster and faster they would go until it seemed a blur with the sun flashing on the swords and their bodies glistening.

Then it stops.

The suddenness takes the watchers breath.

The warriors drops to their knees with the sword tips to the ground, their heads bowed in thanks to their ancestors for courage and strength. Sheathing their swords, they throw water over their heads, and re-dress ready for their chores of the day – except this day.

My father and grandfather were working side by side, their movements almost identical. Then they stopped and faced each other. Bowing they started to fight, weaving in and out, around and around. My father thrust towards Cadfen, my grandfather, who ducked down on his hunches, spun around and back up again with his sword aimed for Gerfil, my father. My heart was in my mouth; they seemed to come so close to hurting each other as they whirled around for many minutes. At last grandfather dropped to one knee and placed his sword on the ground in front of him.

You can still move well, tad. my father said

Not as fast as in my youth.

Father laughed and pulled him to his feet.

While they washed and re-dressed I picked up my father’s sword and tried the movements myself. The stepping was easy but the sword was heavy and I couldn’t keep my balance and fell. My father laughed.

The sword is too heavy for you my daughter, you need a smaller one. He came over, This is how you do it.

He took the sword from my hand and started to show me how it was done. He dropped down on his haunches and spun. Watch my feet. But he was so close to the ground I couldn’t see his feet. I crouched down to watch.

He handed me his sword and I began to spin but the sword pulled me off balance and I fell again.

You need to practice with a smaller weapon. he said. These movements have saved my life many times.

Later that day Cadfen, my grandfather, took me aside and presented to me a new short sword. I looked at it in amazement. It balanced perfectly in my hand, intricately decorated with the symbols and scrolls and up near the hilt more symbols.

These are our symbols, taid explained, and near the hilt here is your story.

I traced them around with my finger.

In years from now, he said people will see this and it will be known where it came from and to whom it belonged.

It was so beautiful.

My grandmother then gave me a leather sheath with which to hold the sword, intricately carved with the same symbols, they matched perfectly. I hugged them both unable to say a word. When the sword was strapped to my back, it fitted so well that, after a little practice, a shrug of my shoulders and the sword was ready in my hand.

I took it off and laid it in a small chest that held my personal treasures.

You must keep it by you, my grandfather said, these are bad times and you may have need of it when you least expect. he removed it from the chest and placed it near the door, do not leave without it. he instructed, It must become as one with your body, as automatic as putting on your shawl.

I knew he was right but it was so lovely it was easy to forget that it was a weapon of protection.

I was up at the spring collecting water when I heard a disturbance. A rider came in, a warrior, dressed in leather armour, decorated with scrolls and patterns picked out in silver and gold which glistened in the sun, with a short sword strapped to his back and a long one sheathed at his side. He rode towards the great hall, stopped at the bottom of the steps, and dismounting, threw the reigns to the guard and raced up to the door where he stopped to disarm, handing his weapons to the keeper and waited to be announced.

I watched as he and our elders who had followed disappeared inside.

I turned back to our house.

It was late in the evening when my father and grandfather returned. Gerfil just threw his cloak and elders staff to the side and left again.

The Brenin Cynfael is coming. my grandfather said.

The king I asked.

Cadfen nodded his face grave.

Nain let out a sigh. We had better get ready to receive him. When is he due?

Tomorrow is likely. All is in order. The feast pit is opened and the orders are out for the cooking to start. I must go; there are other preparations to make.

I stood in the doorway watching as he made his way back up to the great hall.

Something is worrying taid. I remarked to my grandmother.

Yes child, she answered but there is nothing that you can do. Just make sure that you ask him no questions.

I was surprised at her tone, almost a warning.

That night I could hear my father and grandparents whispering outside. I tried to listen to what they were saying but all I heard was my grandmother say, She must be told. My father replied curtly, No. Then I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes next, the day had started.

Chapter 3

Angharad I jumped at Nain’s voice calling me. I hurriedly threw down the last of the food for the chickens and ran back to the house.

Come child, we must dress. she was rushing around fetching things out of our special chests that held our best clothes.

You must wear your new dress. she held out the dress that she had worked on all winter, woven in a lovely shade of red and trimmed with many colours.

I quickly took off my tunic and breeches, and then Aynia, my grandmother, carefully placed the new dress over my head and pulled it down. A new girdle was placed around my waist with a beautiful pouch, decorated in the same colours as the dress.

No time for questions now child. it was if my grandmother had read my mind so I closed my mouth and said nothing.

Aynia fetched a comb and started to braid my unruly hair. I always wear it loose. I protested.

But you are a young lady now and on occasions such as this you must wear it braided.

But what occasion? I asked, flinching as she pulled hard on my hair.

You must be properly presented; the Brenin is family, although it is many years since we have seen him.

Family, how? I never knew this, why didn’t I know?"

Aynia looked a little perplexed. It was something we never thought to talk about since coming back here we have been too happy and busy.

How is he family? I asked.

He is cousin to Aneurin ap Gwion and your grandfather.

It took a while for this to sink in and work out.

Grandmother placed a silver band on my head. Look after this well she said softly this was your mothers.

I fingered it and could feel the intricate workings on it and I knew that it would have a story of its own to tell.

Then bands of silver were placed on my arms and chains around my neck, I had never worn so much jewellery before.

We waited while Gerfil finished dressing. When he emerged from the house I was amazed at the difference. He was wearing doeskin breeches and a tunic made of the finest wool brightly embroidered with many symbols. Over this he had a jerkin also made of doeskin. Around his neck was a gold torque, the sign of a warrior.

My father came over to me and took me in his arms.

You are so grown up nowadays. he said, It is difficult to realize how the years have passed by.

He reached into a small pouch that had always hung around his neck and pulled out a small ring of twisted silver threads. He slipped it onto my finger and kissed it.

This was your mothers, he whispered, I gave it to her the day she agreed to be my wife.

A tear ran down my face and when I looked up to my father I could see tears in his eyes as well. I put my arms around him and hung onto him. Thank you. I whispered, I shall treasure it all my life.

And I hope it is a very long life. he whispered back.

He then placed a cloak around my shoulders. A beautiful dark, dark blue trimmed with silver threads delicately embroidered along the edges.

This is our family cloak, he said as he fastened it with a silver pin and it is time for you to wear one as well, it tells the family we come from.

I fingered it with awe.

Come you two, called Aynia, it is time we were up at the great hall.

Chapter 4

My grandfather and his brother Aneurin were waiting for us; the other elders were slowly assembling also.

A guard entered and bowed to Aneurin. They are coming, my lord.

Aneurin acknowledged him and turned to us, You will follow me and greet our cousin and Brenin. and he walked towards the door.

I walked with my father behind Cadfen and Aynia.

What do I have to do father? I whispered nervously as we stood there waiting.

Just follow, my daughter, he smiled at me, if you copy your grandmother you will be correct.

We stood outside at the top of the steps and looked down to the entrance to the valley.

We could see a host of warriors approaching led by someone in a wicker cart drawn by the blackest horse I have ever seen, even from a distance the shine of him glistening in the sun was for all to see. Our own small band of warriors lined the path leading to the great hall, all dressed in their finest.

Grandmother took my hand and we moved to the side, leaving Aneurin to greet his cousin.

The wicker cart made its way slowly up the hill. The Brenin stood proudly, dressed in great finery. He wore a leather breastplate finely decorated in scrolls picked out with gold and silver. Under this he had a fine tunic with bright embroidery on the neck and sleeves. Around his neck was the largest warriors’ torque I have ever seen, made of many twists of gold all bound together and decorated with more scrolls which showed that he had earned the right to be Brenin, king of his family tribe. On his head was a wide gold band decorated with knots and twists, no doubt telling the stories of his life and of his great deeds.

Brenin Cynfael was followed by his personal guards. They also were dressed in leather armour, embossed with colours and threads of gold and silver. Their swords and shields shone and caught the light of the sun and flashed in all directions. It was almost too much for our eyes.

The cart stopped at the bottom of the steps and the Brenin demounted followed by a young man.

Aneurin walked down the steps to meet his cousin. Cynfael unbuckled his belt and sword and handed it to Aneurin as a show of friendship and peace and they embraced.

Turning, they walked back up the steps and into the hall. As they passed by we lowered our heads in a mark of respect then followed in behind them.

A large seat had been prepared for the Brenin, covered in great furs and skins and placed next to Aneurin’s in the centre of the hall. We quietly moved behind the chairs and stood there while the ceremony of protocol took place.

As the head of the elders, my grandfather bowed to the Brenin. They clasped hands and said a few words quietly to each other. Then grandfather started to call forward the other elders and presented them. Each bowed and was greeted with a smile and then they moved back to the side of the hall. When it came to Bedwyr, the story teller, the Brenin rose from his chair and embraced him as an old friend and they stood there for a few moments exchanging words; the king and the storyteller alone in their whispers. Then Bedwyr took his place at the side with the other elders.

My father came forward and bowed but didn’t clasp the Brenin’s hand and never raised his eyes. Why I wondered.

Eventually, all had been presented and had moved to their rightful places along walls of the great hall. Refreshments were brought forward, small cakes and delicacies and for the special occasion, the beautiful golden mead was served. A large silver goblet was brought forward for the Brenin and filled with the golden liquid and Aneurin raised his goblet in honour of the Brenin and drank his health. The Brenin responded the same way. The formal ceremonies were over.

Brenin Cynfael turned around. I stood half hidden by my grandmother. For the first time in my life I felt shy.

Aynia, he greeted, wife of my cousin, you are a sight for sore eyes. Come here. he gave her a hug, Let me look at you woman. You look as young as ever, I believe I should have moved quicker and asked for your hand first.

My grandfather laughed, You shouldn’t have been so slow cousin, although she may not have wanted you.

I could see my grandmother blushing like a girl.

Get away with you two she said, I chose well. she smile at Cadfen.

This is my grandson Cynwyn. and Brenin Cynfael pulled the young man forward. He bowed formally to us all. He was a solemn youth but then he may have been shy like me.

You are most welcome. said Aneurin.

The Brenin turned to my father. And Gerfil, son of my cousin, it is good to see you. You are well?

Gerfil took my hand and pulled me forward.

I present my daughter, Angharad he said formally.

The Brenin looked at me. This is Rhiannon’s daughter? he asked softly.

Yes my lord. replied my father.

Ah, it was a sad day when she departed this life but she has left her image behind. Cynfael said with a sigh and to my embarrassment he lifted my hand and kissed it.

Come here child, sit beside me.

The Brenin took my hand How old are you now Angharad, 16 or 17 summers? Almost 17 my lord

Have you chosen a husband yet. he asked quietly.

I bit my lip and I could feel my face redden a little. No my lord Perhaps I should have told him about Mabon but nothing had been decided yet between the two of us.

Brenin Cynfael patted my hand. You should decide soon my dear.

I nodded again, not sure of what to say.

The Brenin rose and went among the people and greeted some like old friends. Cynwyn was left sitting alone. Rising I went over.

Hello I said pleasantly.

He stood and looked at me keenly. Good day my lady

Do you go everywhere with your grandfather? I asked.

No, but this was a special visit.

How come?

He said it was time to see more of his lands.

Did you have a pleasant journey?

It was long, my lady, but very interesting.

I understand we are distantly related?

Yes, my lady, your chief is cousin to my grandfather and so is lord Cadfen, your grandfather and by way of marriage so is the lady Aynia.

Look I said, you can drop the lord and lady titles here, we are just ordinary folk.

I am sorry, my lady.

Angharad is my name but if you say my lady again I shall be annoyed.

My apologies again I will try to remember but it is what I am used to.

I felt sorry for him; I wondered how much freedom he had at home. Did he have any friends? I was just about to ask him this when there was a stirring as the Brenin and Aneurin resumed their formal places in the main part of the hall.

You may leave now, Cynfael said to the captain of his guards, go and join in the feasting outside with the others.

The captain and the guards bowed and left; glad to be free of their duties.

One by one the other elders bowed to the Brenin and left.

Eventually there were just us, the family group left. We were motioned to sit at the large table near the great fire.

There were platters of meat and vegetables and mugs of ale waiting for us.

At last Cynfael stood up and cleared his throat. I wish to leave my grandson here, with you, my family.

For a moment there was silence.

No grandfather. Cynwyn jumped to his feet, his face red. It is my duty, to be at your side, to fight with you.

It is your duty to do as I say! And I tell you to stay with these good people….if they will have you.

The two stood facing each other, the old man and his young grandson, held eye to eye.

Cadfen stood up and made a small coughing sound to clear his throat.

We would be proud to take him as our own son for as long as you wish.

I thank you cousin. Cynfael said.

No, grandfather, Cynwyn defiantly, my place is with you.

No Cynwyn. You will obey me in this.

But the other warriors will think that I am too much of a coward to fight?

It is possible there will be none left to think anything. Cynfael said quietly

A shudder went through my body.

Then why are we fighting?

Cynfael turned furiously. "Because lad, it is better than sitting at home waiting for the Saxons to come and knock at the door and ask for the keys. Do you think I want the story tellers in the future to say that we were not capable of fighting? Do you want the Saxons to laugh and tell stories how we just sat there and waited for them? I think not.

We will fight them but it is my duty to make sure that some of you will survive to tell our stories, you and Angharad and these good people into whose hands I am trusting you, will be among them, you are the last of my family"

But grandfather….

Enough! Cynfael slammed his mug down on the table, I have spoken and you will obey.

Cynwyn slumped back in his seat and hung his head.

You must be among the survivors. Cynfael said in a muffled tone

For a moment there was an uneasy silence.

Have I permission to leave my lord? asked my grandmother, I should help with the feasting outside.

Cynfael nodded and Aynia and I left, leaving the men to talk.

Back at our house Aynia changed and went to help with the feast tables but I sat there for a while thinking. So much had happened.

A shadow fell across the doorway. At first I took no notice, I was too much in my thoughts.

Angharad. a voice called quietly.

I looked up and jumped for joy. Mabon, you are back.

He swung me up in his arms. I came in with the Brenin but I have only just been able to leave my company.

I am so glad to see you, I replied, it has been so long. Are you staying here now?

I don’t know, he answered, that will depend on Brenin Cynfael, I am in his service and I have to go where he decides.

That’s not fair, I protested, you have been away so long already.

I know, he said gently but I have to finish my training before anything else then we can decide what we are to do.

I snuggled into his chest and hung onto him tightly.

There are rumours of a great battle looming. he said quietly, If this is so I will be going with the Brenin, it will be my duty.

I sighed. Why did you decide to be a warrior? I asked petulantly.

He laughed. You knew that it is what I always wanted.

I knew. When we were children it was all he could talk about. But that was then; now I wanted him to stay with me.

With our arms around each other we went outside and joined the feast.

The tables were loaded with food and everyone was invited to fill their bellies. The whole village turned up, even the folk that lived in the far reaches. There was a wide range of roasted meat and vegetables, breads and cakes of many kinds and of course plenty of ale.

The musicians started to play, an old man plucking his little harp, a piper and a drummer. The music was lively and we were all soon dancing, spinning, turning, coming together, touching hands then spinning away again. Mabon placed his hands around my waist and swung me up. And so we danced until we were exhausted. I found a place to sit while Mabon fetched a platter of food.

I looked around. Now was the time for Bedwyr, the storyteller to appear and tell us our stories but he was nowhere to be seen. I went over to my grandmother.

Where is Bedwyr?

She looked up to the great hall. He is with the elders talking with the Brenin.

I was puzzled but I soon forgot as the music started again and we became swept up in our dancing and the singing of songs.

Most of us slept outside around the fires and the feasting pit, which had sunk to a low glow of embers. Mabon and I curled up near the feast fire.

The poets say that the stars are the lights of our ancestors. I was looking up at the black sky littered with blinking silver spots.

There are plenty of them. Let’s hope they are ready to look after us all. Mabon held me close.

What are our chances? Against the Saxons I mean.

"Brenin Cynfael has