Trevor Morgan

Wessex Sagas
THE CHILDREN OF GEWIS[1]
Part the First: Gewis to Aethelburg

INDEX

• List of Characters
• List of Symbols
• List of Terms
• List of Places
• Lineage
• List of Events
• Author’s Foreword
• Dedication
• Content: Prayers, Sonnets and Verses
• The Children Of Gewis – Part the First: Gewis to Aethelburg

LIST OF CHARACTERS

• Caiaphas: Ancient priest amongst the Jews
• Flavius Aetius: Roman Consul who fought Attila
• Theodoric: King of the Visigoths who fought Attila
• Vortigern or Gurthrigern: Tyrant of the Britons and a fool
• Aelfwine the soothsayer: Soothsayer to Cerdic, his son and grandson, author of “the Sooths”
• Woden: Ancestor of Gewis
• Woden: God of the Saxons, Jutes, and Frisians
• Hel: Goddess of the realm of the dead
• Gildas the Wise: Long dead Briton, a Holy Saint
• Aelfwine the Skop: Skop to Ina, Aethelburg and her successor
• Anna: A king amongst the East Angles ally of Cenwalh
• Wayland: The ancient smith
• Gewis: Father to all of the Gewissae
• Elsa: Son of Gewis
• Elesa: Son of Elsa and father to Cerdic
• Cerdic: First king of the Gewissae
• Cynric: Second king of the Gewissae
• Caewlin: Third king of the Gewissae
• Cuthwulf: A king amongst the Gewissae
• Ceol: Fourth king of the Gewissae
• Ceolwulf: Fifth king of the Gewissae
• Cynegils: Sixth king of the Gewissae
• Birinus: First Roman Bishop amongst the Gewissae Founded his see at Dorchester on Thames
• Cwichelm: Seventh king of the Gewissae
• Cenwalh: Eighth king of the Gewissae
• Vile Penda: Enemy and temporary conqueror of the Gewissae, king of Mercia
• Seaxburgh: Ninth ruler and Queen of the Gewissae
• Cenfus: Ninth king of the Gewissae
• Aescwine: Tenth king of the Gewissae
• Centwine: Eleventh king of the Gewissae
• Caedwalla: Twelfth king of the Gewissae
• Ina the Lawmaker: Thirteenth king of the Gewissae
• Aethelburg: Fifteenth ruler and Queen of the Gewissae
• Yeoster: Goddess of the Blazing Dawn

LIST OF SYMBOLS

• Wild Boar – The Gewissae

LIST OF SOME TERMS USED

• Gewissae or Gewisse – ancient name for the people who became known as the West Saxons
• Werns – Ancient monsters thought to be liken unto Dragons
• Midgard – The realm of man, this world.
• Wyrd – Old English term similar to “Fate” or “Fortuna”
• Norns – Strange ancient powers or the Fates
• Britons – Ancient peoples of Albion whom Gildas the Wise condemned as depraved.
• Wahls – The foreigners, or the Welsh
• Picts – Ancient enemies of the Britons from the North of Albion
• Scotti – Ancient enemies of the Britons from the North West of Albion and from Ireland
• Orcs – The ancient enemies of all of the people of Midgard

LIST OF PLACES

• Albion – The Western Island across the North Sea
• Rome – The ancient city
• Catalaunian Plains – Site in Gaul of the defeat of Attila and his Orcs
• Dumnonia – Land of the Wahls to the west of the lands of the Gewissae
• Bath Hill – Site of battle near to the city of Bath
• Dyrham – Site of battle to the north of the city of Bath
• Dorchester on Thames – Early home of the Gewissae
• Saeroburh or Old Sarum
• Barenburh or Barbury Castle
• Biedcanford or Bedford
• Fethanlaeg – Possibly Stoke Lynn, Oxfordshire
• Wodnesburh or Adam’s Grave, or Woden’s Grave
• Beandun or Bindon near Axmouth
• Peonna or Penselwood
• Taunton town on the river Tone (or Tan) in the shire of the shore marsh
• Ax – a river that flows south into the sea
• Lydeard Camp – fortified camp near to Taunton a base of the Wahls

LINEAGE

The kings amongst the Gewissae[3], or the Regnal Lists of the Cerdicingas

Woden begat Baeldaeg
Baeldaeg begat Brand
Brand Begat Freothogar
Freothogar begat Freawine
Freawine begat Wig
Wig Begat Gewis
Gewis begat Esla
Esla begat Elesa
Elesa begat Cerdic
Cerdic begat Cynric
Cynric begat Cutha and Caewlin
Cutha begat Ceolwulf and Ceola
And Ceola begat Cynegils and Cwichelm
Cynegils begat Centwine

This was a line of our Gewissae kings

Caewlin begat Cuthwine
Cuthwine begat Cutha
Cutha begat Ceolwald
Ceolwald begat Cenred
Cenred begat Ingild and Ina
Ina wed Aethelburg

This was a line of our Gewissae kings

LIST OF EVENTS

• Those Orcs, the Huns, ravage ancient lands of the ancestors of Gewis. This is ended when the Orcs are finally driven out. (A.D. 439-453)
• Gewis leads a remnant of this ancient people and they fight alongside Theodoric and the Visigoths and their ally, the Roman Consul Flavius Aetius at the Battle of the Catalaunian Plains (A.D. 451). Here they help defeat those Orcs the Huns. Gewis is the sole survivor of his kinsmen who fought there. This was the last Roman victory in the West.
• Siege of Mons Badonicus or Bath Hill (c.A.D.500) – Battle at which Ambrosius Aurelianus wins a great victory for the Britons in the year of the nativity of Gildas the Wise.
• Starting with a dense dry fog, red dust and pools and rivers turn to blood in the year 535 the weather rages to extremes and then famine is everywhere for two years and more.[4]
• Siege of Saeroburh or Old Sarum (A.D.552) – Cynric fought against the Britons and put them to flight
• Siege of Barenburh or Barbury Castle (A.D.556) Cynric and Caewlin fought against the Britons there
• Siege or battle of Biedcanford or Bedford (A.D.571) Cuthwulf defeated the Britons at Bedford captured villages and died following his great struggles
• Battle of Dyrham (A.D.577) – Battle at which Caewlin wins a great victory for the Gewissae, the event foretold in the sooths of Aelfwine and the beginning of the three hundred years of the rule of the Gewissae.
• Battle of Fethanlaeg (A.D.584) Caewlin and Cutha fought against the Britons and Cutha was slain. Caewlin captured booty and departed in anger to his own country.
• Battle of Wodnesburh or Adam’s Grave, or Woden’s Grave (A.D. 592) – there was a great slaughter and Caewlin was driven out.
• Battle of Beandun or Bindon near Axmouth (A.D.614) – Cynegils and Cwichelm fought and slew two thousand and sixty five Wahls.
• Eomer came from Cwichelm, the West-Saxon king, to stab Edwin king of Northumbria but he stabbed Lilla his thane and Frothere and wounded the king.
• Battle of Cirencester (A.D.628) – Cynegils and Cwichelm fought against Penda and were forced into an agreement by the Mercian
• Battle of Bradenforda or Bradford-on-Avon (A.D.652) Cenwalh fought against the Wahls
• Battle of Winwaed (Winwipfeld) (A.D.655) Penda defeated and killed by Oswy of Bernicia this enable the Gewissae throw off the Mercian yoke.
• Battle of Peonna or Penselwood (A.D.658) Cenwalh fought against the Wahls and drove them beyond the Parret
• There is a great death of birds (A.D.671)
• King Gerren of Dumnonia wars with Ina who builds a fort at Taunton (A.D.710)
• Wodnesburh or Second Battle of Adam’s Grave or Woden’s Grave (A.D.715) King Ina fought with Ceolred of Mercia.
• Queen Aethelburg burns Taunton and retreats to the Parret (A.D.722)

CONTENTS
Prayers, Sonnets and Verses

• First Word by Julian the Scribe
• The Age Of Gewis And His Kin
  • The Mutilated Skop
  • Winds Of Change
  • The Warming Of Midgard
  • Freothogar Witnesses Depravity
  • The Orcs Sweep All Before Them
  • The Old Lands Are Despoiled
  • The Wild Boar In The Wood
  • The Stoics And The Epicureans Are Gone
  • Gewis The Roots Of The Tree
  • Kiss Of Caiaphas
  • The Wild Boar Hid Away
  • Surviving Those Orcs Known As The Huns
  • Gewis Leaves The Ancient Realm
  • The Villa With Pictures On The Floor
  • The Sows Give Birth
  • The Midwife At The Birth Of Change
  • Vortigern He Was A Fool
  • Fates That Are Foretold
  • The Whingeing Of The Weaklings
  • The Wild Boars Emerge
• The Children Of Gewis
  • Gewis And The Birth Of Hope
  • Wyrd – The Fates
  • Prophet Be Warned
  • Song For Nameless Heroes
  • Fear Of Things Unseen
  • Moon Day
  • Cerdic (A.D. 519-534)
  • Defeat At Bath Hill
  • The Battle At Bath Hill
  • Cynric (A.D. 534-560)
  • Moon Day Noontide Gloom (A.D.535)
  • Caewlin (A.D. 560-591)
  • The Remnant Of Those Wahls
  • Cuthwulf (A.D. 571)
  • Wyrd Of The Britons
  • Three Hundred Years
  • The Lamentations Of Gildas The Wise
  • Sooth 1.39
  • Sooth 1.46
  • Another Remnant After Fethanlaeg A.D.584
  • Moon Day Night
  • Caewlin Came Home And Raged
  • Caewlin’s End At Woden’s Grave
  • The Sword’s Reward
  • The Widow Wept A While
  • Tew’s Day Morn
  • Dumnonia, The Old Foe, Holds Firm
  • Ceol (Son Of Cuthwulf) (A.D. 591-597)
  • King Ceol’s Night Dance
  • Old King Ceol
  • Tew’s Day
  • Old Woden Died
  • Woden’s Day
  • Ceolwulf (A.D. 597-611)
  • Cynegils (A.D. 611-643)
  • Wahls Wage More War And Die At Bindon (A.D. 614)
  • The Harvest Of Birinus
  • Cwichelm (A.D. 626-636) And Edwin Of Northumbria
  • Cwichelm’s Conversion To The Cross
  • Thoner’s Day Morn
  • The Pangs Of Pain
  • Cenwalh (A.D. 643-645)
  • The Thrush And Her Stone
  • Fate Of Our Bloodlines
  • Foul Penda (A.D. 645-648)
  • Thoner’s Day Evening
  • Havoc In The Land
  • The Early Hours Of Fri’s Day
  • Recent Turmoil
  • Cenwalh (A.D. 648-674)
  • The Great Death Of Birds (A.D.671)
  • The Death of Cenwalh
  • Fri’s Day
  • Queen Seaxburgh (A.D. 672-674)
  • Cenfus (A.D.674)
  • Aescwine (A.D. 674-676)
  • Victory At Biedanheafde A.D.676
  • Centwine (A.D. 676)
  • Caedwalla (A.D. 685-688) And The Jutes Lament
  • The Mother Of Ina’s Bride
  • The Line Of Ina’s Bride
  • The Bard Among The Wahls
  • The Wahls And The Gewissae
  • Ina The Lawmaker (A.D. 688-726)
  • Aelfwine’s Sonnet
  • The Skop At The Wedding
  • Victors Sonnet
  • Ina At The Wells
  • Books
  • Sonnet – Queen’s Mother’s Last Days
  • The Wake Of Aethelburg’s Mother
  • Sooth 1.113
  • Queen Aethelburg – Taunton Defendamus (A.D.722)
  • Taunton Lights The Sky
  • The Lioness
  • The Dead Thrush
  • Old Ways Are Obstinate
  • The Old Skop In The Glade
  • Woden’s Vision
  • The Mutilated Skop
• Last Words By Julian The Scribe

Wessex Sagas
THE CHILDREN OF GEWIS
Part the First: Gewis to Aethelburg

First Words By Julian The Scribe

“In the year of our Lord’s incarnation 1053 it was Yuletide once more

In the middle of the winter folk celebrate Yule. Despite the teachings of our Lord there is much of this that is not taught in Holy writ. But as the blessed Pope Gregory teaches us in his ‘Pastoral Care’ we ought not overturn all things heathen but may through them teach the word of God.

For many years past I have cared for the skop Hygferth in his infirmity. For many years this man from Bernicia has hid himself away and composed his lays about the land in which he now lives and of the peoples of this land.

For many years the folk who dwell about our Abbey and its lands at Muchelney have heard the sweet voice of Hygferth as he sings the lays whilst composing them. At the instructions of my dear Abbot I have diligently written down the words of Hygferth. He sings of holy themes and of things most profane. I have dedicated my life to work within the order of the Blessed Benedict and am sworn to obey and so on the orders of my dear Abbot I write down the words of this ageing and mutilated Skop.

In this year and for the first time since his monstrous mutilation he has conceded to the wishes of local folk and agreed to sing to them and to tell them tales of their ancient kin who dwelt in these lands.

So in the hall beside Oath Hill Hygferth sang this the first of his many lays and folk came from far to hear him sing for he sang from the heart.

When first folk saw him they were shocked for he has neither hands nor feet since Cnut mutilated him all those long years ago on the blood stained shores at Sandwic.

But a man has a spirit as well as a body of flesh and of blood and of bone and Hygferth’s spirit seems not mutilated but all the more blesséd. He is blessed by the suffering he has gone through all these long years ago. He tells me of the great pains that come on him. They possess him where his hands and feet ought be. It seems that he is tormented by pains within the ghosts of these long lost parts of his poor mutilated body.

As I said a man has a spirit as well as an earthly body. Hygferth it seems has been dwelling in Purgatory whilst his soul has yet to depart this life. It is the purgatory of his pains that may well have guided him in his work.

He tells me a Skop must entertain and tell good tales and that is all there is to his work. He tells me also that he had not wanted to sing them until his work was complete. But he grows old and knows now that he may not live long enough to complete all the words that spin about within his mind.

So this year he has relented and has agreed to spend Yuletide in good company at the Hall besides Oath Hill and to drink mead and ale and to sing the cold midwinter days away in this land that, with Godwin dead, now dwells in peace at last.”

The Age Of Gewis And His Kin

The Mutilated Skop

“Now here this women and you men
You’ll hear this my first lay
Then in a year and plus one day
My second I’ll sing you then.”

The Warming Of Midgard

Some powdered snow fell on the ground
But it was so soon gone
Our land was verdant all around
As soft sunlight now shone

Children hear tales of long ago
When old Midgard was cold
And icy winters brought such woe
In freezing days of old

Those works of old ice Orcs now fade
And rivers do not freeze
Our dear sweet land seems heaven made
As we may take our ease

Ah, long ago the winter snows
Were awesome cold and bleak
Some old songs tell of fearful woes
When winter’s at its peak

But Midgard is much warmer so
Snows rarely hang around
The sun’s rays have a warmer glow
Than they did long ago

Mayhap in colder times ahead
Ice sheets may clad the land
But that’s not likely for its said
Midgard is warming now

Now who can say warm is a curse
When cold can bring such pain
And can there be much here that’s worse
For cold is such a bane

The Orcs Sweep All Before Them

The strong and great they languished then
And wallowed in a fear
All craven seem the weapon men
As Orcs sweep ever near

Some sought a solace in decline
They seemed to fade away
Yet in each Dawn some sought a sign
That this might be their day

Though many, many lulled all sad
A few stayed resolute
And many, many they went mad
And braggarts now were mute

Now Gewis was among those few
He would not fade away
For in his soul he truly knew
The Orcs would have their day

Night came; their final day was done
Though loathing for them grew
It seemed like no one here had won
Yet grass was kissed by dew

For grass eternal[7] it will spring
Across each ruined land
The skylark in the sky will sing
All is as Wyrd has planned

The Stoics And The Epicureans Are Gone

The stoics now are gone
The epicures would fail
The light from Rome that shone
Is fading now, is pale

Dynamics drive all change
Change has a varied pace
The ways of Wyrd seem strange
– Some sink without a trace –

The sun may rise then set
The seasons come and go
Is all of this kismet?
Ah, how are we to know!

Time hides what is to be
Yet some may well foretell
And through time’s curtain see
Hope sink into dark hell

Where Rome had once been small
A town upon one hill
New realms now grow to fall
According to Wyrd’s will

Wrath like some flaming fire
Has its allotted span
Events they turn and gyre
For Wyrd will have a plan.

Beyond the dark is light
Of weaker sweeter hue
Gone is an empire’s might
Small things now grow anew

Here many a shoot will sprout
Yet not all here will thrive
Some may grow strong and stout
Though just a few survive

Trees grow and spread out wide
They cast a spreading shade
Soon shoots beneath have died
Lo, thus new realms are made.

Gewis The Roots Of The Tree

Stories of Wayland that great ancient smith
Like legends of our early kings long dead
Are not just empty tales nor hollow myth.
For heroes, ah, they rarely die in bed.

As Gewis fed at his dear mother’s breast
That was a day that would change all Midgard
His offspring would all learn life is a test
And they would live in Hope though times were hard

And they would grow and multiply and thrive
They lost their homes and roamed across a sea
In such times folk are great if they survive
Yet Wyrd dictates, so what will be, will be!

From out the seed of Gewis much would grow
The nation of the Gewissae would take root
In early years they faced each lethal foe
Each great ash tree must start a small soft shoot

By canny elfish council[12] they strove on
Defying all who would enslave or slay
The glory of some deeds, ah, how they shone
They echo still through this Skop and each song

Surviving Those Orcs Known As The Huns

Freawine was forced to hid away
Defeated by the Hun
Ah, but he lived another day
Beneath a better sun

He raised his sons to fight with guile
Where force would not suffice
Those times they were so foul, so vile
And old realms paid the price

And all about was Death and hate
As havoc held it reign
He and his son seemed saved by Fate
Though they would know great pain

Freawine thought of that Great west isle
Where Freothogar once had stayed
Wig fought on with yet greater guile
To see their foes delayed

Then at the Catalaunian Plain[14]
Gewis slew Orcs that day
But past defeats they left their stain
So he then turned away

Away from ancient lands he knew
Away from their old strife
The Great West Isle came into view
And here he took a wife

At Dorchester[15] he met with kin
When all his wars were done
To live is better than to win
And there he raised a son

Werm venom[16] had been in this land
Some roads were overgrown
The ways of Wyrd none understand
So much remains unknown.

The Villa With Pictures On The Floor

The rotten rafters in the roof
They creaked and then gave way
This house of those folk once aloof
Had finally had its day

Impoverished now their kin must toil
To gain their meat and bread
Those once proud now they till the soil
And dwell in fear and dread

The tiles and rafters clattered down
The floor’s now lost from view
Mosaics, mud besmeared and brown,
Had glistened so – when new!

Where slaves had been at beck and call
Or beaten black and blue
The haughty had now met their fall
These times seemed good and new

The pompous nonsense of this place
Seemed so wrong in this land
The haughty now had faced disgrace
Gone are the gross and grand

To spend a fortune on a floor
Now seems a wasteful thing
Such waste and folly’s gone for sure
Oh, hear the song thrush sing

This land itself is much more grand
Old villas were pretence
There’s beauties ever here at hand
They tingle every sense

The streamlets that here trickle by
Bring music to the ear
The skylark’s song sung from on high
Brings such a joyful cheer

The clouds reflected in a brook
Have such a regal grace
Gone is the overlord’s dark look
Gone from this wondrous place

Grass grows now where the ruin fell
All verdant in the spring
Here now is where the dormice dwell
And that’s a goodly thing

The Midwife At The Birth Of Change

This land so pregnant here with change
Was now to face stark strife
The birth of change is not so strange
Where wars act as midwife

The Picts would rally and rage down
The Irish too would raid
Then plague[17] would empty many a town
As trade and wealth decayed

One tyrant[18] felt he could hold sway
With troops he got for hire
These men[19] they gained much more than pay
That tyrant felt their ire

For once they’d put the Picts to flight
And drove the Scotti[20] out
The hirer, them, he felt their might
That tyrant faced his rout

Why risk you life to fight for pay
When you may gain much more
The ways of old have had their day
These lands would now know war

New powers would be slow to rise
Like tides things ebb and flow
They fall from Grace who are not wise
Proud hearts should know true woe.

The roots of trees may slowly spread
And topple any wall
Ah, Pride, it has been often said
May cause the great to fall!

This land so pregnant here with change
Was now to face stark strife
The birth of change is not so strange
Where war acts as midwife

The Whingeing Of The Weaklings

When as Aetius struggled
In a desperate fight for life
Rich Britons pleaded aid
In some small petty strife

So foppish is the dupe
With disaster here at hand
Who hires a hungry troop
They too may take his land

The Children Of Gewis

Gewis And The Birth Of Hope

A vibrant rage born of a dark despair
Enabled Gewis and his kin to cope
At Dorchester[22] the land seemed good and fair
And here it was he saw the birth of Hope
Yes, Hope came when his wife bore him a son
The first of many children she would bear
Ah, life seemed good before his days were done
As joy and laughter now seemed everywhere
The trauma of the past and his lost land
Still flitted through the dark dreams of the night
But here it seemed things seemed to go as planned
And life no longer was a dreary blight
When Gewis passed beyond the veil of death
His mouth it smiled with his last soft cool breath

Fear Of Things Unseen

The swirling mists wrapped round each tree
The day grew warm and bright
Now mists might fade that we may see
In clear and sweet sunlight

But what we see may cause dismay
Or ravage folk with harm
So mists that hide such things away
May seem a good luck charm

The mist it drifted in the vale
It wrapped about each tree
It has no form is damp is pale
Through it there’s nought to see

It seems to be of little harm
And yet it hides from sight
Things that when seen may cause alarm
And cause such hurt and plight

Where evil may not seek us out
Life may remain secure
Such shrouding mists that drift about
May hold a sweet allure

The distant echo of some bird
When startled into flight
Never here ought go unheard
They’re portents of some plight

A rustle that is heard close by
Ought be a cause for fear
For none may know when they might die
With danger ever near

Cerdic (A.D. 519-534)

“Bold Cerdic fought first to survive
Survive against all foes
He strove hard that our folk might thrive
In life he knew his woes

At Cerdicsford he slew a horde
Of Dragon spawn so vile
He slaughtered them with spear and sword
He’d trapped them with his guile

Strong Cerdic was our founding king
Much Dragon spawn he spared
It was from these all Wahls would spring
These spawn who now despaired

As soothsayer to our founding King
Old Aelfwine had the Sight
Saint Gildas wrote the strangest thing
That his sooths would prove right

Cerdic with Aelfwine as his guide
Outnumbered in this isle
Ensured that our folk might abide
His weapon was his guile

Once Winchester was gained at last
Cerdic at end could rest
Where once proud rulers were outcast
And Wahls fled to the west

Bold Cerdic fought first to survive
Survive against all foes
He strove hard that our folk might thrive
In life he knew his woes

At Winchester he gained his throne
The Gewissae had a king
With sooths old Aelfwine would intone
What future times might bring

Though Cerdic fought first to survive
In life he knew his woes
He strove hard that our folk might thrive
Til his foes fed the crows”

Defeat At Bath Hill

At Mons Badonicus it’s said
The Wahls they were supreme
Yet we their foes were not all dead
Was victory but a dream?

In less than twenty years we rose
Though dead folk do not rise
The first of kings our Witun chose
With Winchester our prize

Cynric (A.D. 534-560)

“Cynric was circumspect and sure
He bid his time until
He saw the Gewissae more secure
Then he won Barbury Hill[24]

As Sarum fell before him then
His victory was acclaimed
The kin he ruled[25] they were his men
Who saw the Wahls there tamed!

He taught his sons the ways of war
He saw his realm secure
These sons were warriors to the core
Ah, rage holds its allure.

These sons would fight to west and east
Kingstone to Severn’s shore
The Gewissae’s sway would be increased
But not for evermore!

Yes, Cynric he was circumspect
He knew when to hold back
These canny ways none ought neglect
Where foes wait to attack.

His sons however learned not all
Were bold then over-bold
At end the over-bold may fall
But, all end dead and cold”

Caewlin (A.D. 560-591)

The ways of war are all some know
That’s how they live a life
Caewlin, like Joshua long ago
Would spend his span in strife

On Dyrham’s slope the Wahls they fell
Their kings were killed that day
Their folly sent a host to hell
Save those who fled away

Cuthwulf (A.D. 571)

Cuthwulf the king’s kin he went east
At Biedcanford he won
But once the fighting there had ceased
Great Cuthwulf’s life was done

He gained much land drove back a foe
His widow she would wail
Yet with great gain there came great woe
Loss left her sad and pale

Ceol he was the son she bore
Her milk he suckled well
With milk of rage then in his core
He’d send a king to Hel

Ah, mothers how they make a man
They feed the mouth and mind
They will do dark deeds as they can
Where grief has left them blind.

Yes, mothers’ love may mould us all
May make us what we are
Where sons are at their beck and call
Then havoc is spread far.

Wyrd Of The Britons

Now from the siege of old Bath Hill
To Dyrham’s grassy slope
Saw chill turn warm and warmth go chill
The Wahls[26] at end lost hope

Their godly saint[27] made his complaint
As he bemoaned their fate
Through sins it seemed they bore a taint
Their sins, ah, they were great

The Gewissae suffered deadly rout
They dwelled in fear and woe
Their fate at end would turn about
For all is ebb and flow

There’s ebb and flow in woe and war
Where Wyrd[28] will get its due
We bravely face each deadly chore
We’re left to smile or rue

Three Hundred Years

Great Gildas wrote about a Sooth
That prophesied our rise
The great saint, oh, he wrote the truth
For Gildas he was wise

Three hundred years we will hold sway
Three hundred years and more
So even we must have our day
Just like old folks of yore

The Lamentations Of Gildas The Wise[29]

“Ah, glorious is Britannia’s isle, behold
With its so pleasant hills and spacious plains
Where soils have been tilled since the days of old
That granaries might overflow with grains
Her lands seem like unto a beauteous bride
Decked out in wondrous colour and mystic scent
There’s myriad lovely flowers on every side
Clear waters from her hills make swift descent
Small streams they join and broaden deep and slow
To rivers once used here for ships of trade
Much trade that is now ceased in times of woe,
Woe brought on those who disobeyed their God
All now is gone which once had been so grand
As purged and plagued now is our wilful land

Weep for Britannia, sins have brought her low
Her people scattered or enslaved or dead
God’s punishments have brought them all this woe
Because they heeded not the words God said
With vanity they were once over proud
Ah, pride we know must lead all to the fall
Defeats by Picts and Scots had left them cowed
A remnant though had fled by sea to Gaul
A great fool brought in Saxons to wage war
He furnished them with food and coin and land
He paid them well and yet they wanted more
They mutinied and all was out of hand
The wickedness of men will bring them low
As God then heaps upon them pains and woe

Weep for those Britons who have lost their fight
And gone as sl.aves to serve foul heathen men
And bow before these heathens’ wrath and might
In servitude they serve released but when
Their life ends and they’re taken unto God
Death may well take away the shame they bear
Their earthly frames may no more feel the rod
In purgatory there’s retribution there
Fresh trials as they are forced to face their fate
Before the very Judgement seat on high
Examined for their deeds of love and hate
And their lamenting souls may weep and sigh
The wretchedness of men has brought them low
Then God decrees where each dead soul must go

Our eight and twenty cities are bereft
So empty now and desolate and bare
Daemonic plagues had been so swift so deft
And left so little there save pure despair
The remnants of the city dwellers fled
More perished then in field or dismal fen
Wages of sin all know it has been said
Is that it brings foul death to sinful men
As sloth and greed and pride have held their sway
So kings must fall and peoples face defeat
The loathsome ones now all have had their day
Their sinfulness has oozed like some foul gleet
The justice of our Judge was soon at hand
His wrath would cleanse all sin from out the land

Not faithful in a peace nor brave in war
The Britons long ago surrendered unto Rome
Christ’s light then shone the land was dark no more
In most men’s hearts this truth would find no home
Where many heard the Word most soon would stray
Back to the ways of old before the Word
To springs and rivers and to hills they pray
Like long ago before God’s truth was heard
Divinity to them dwelled in some place
Where ancient stones or ancient trees might be
Though in such things there is no sign of Grace
Ah, there are none so blind as will not see
The wrath of God was ever near at hand
And God would purge all sin from out the land

The ways of God belie the deeds of men
So God has sent his scourge to stay the hand
Of tyrants who betrayed their sad lands when
They strut about and act so over-grand
And preen and boast then flee before each foe
And beg of Rome that she may fight her war
But great Aetius[30] then declined to go
And Britain was alone and insecure
Ah, Gurthrigern[31], a king who was not wise,
Let three Cyuls[32] in like wolves within a fold
This Gurthrigern whose name men now despise
Paid mercenaries to fight and die for gold
But this fool’s plans would soon get out of hand
These wolves within his fold would grab his land

That brood of wolves then turned upon this king
And sank their talons deep in all he’d had
The folly of a fool’s a dismal thing
Wailing lamentations, Jeremiad,
Our people fled and had no will to fight
Ambrosius[33], a good and modest man
Would rally us and turned this shameful flight
And fought his foe throughout his life’s whole span
Then at the great siege of Bath Hill[34] he won!
Peace and prosperity returned at last
But great deeds done through Sins can be undone
And soon our victories all were in the past
As sin returned so did our dismal woe
At end all hope was gone as all now know…”

Caewlin Came Home And Raged

“As an ageing dying hero
He raged against the pain
Pain, Oh, so gross it brought him low
And made him rage again

Each movement of his leg and back
Sent hot fire through his soul
He lived on yet, alas, alack
He was no longer whole

Though festering wounds may slowly heal
Embittered minds may not
His futile rages would reveal
A spirit doomed to rot

He lashed out and he killed a slave
One day when pains gripped him
For agony it will deprave
Til all that’s left seems grim

There’s gritting teeth to hold back screams
When pain is at its peak
Then fitful sleep with its dark dreams
Dreams that are, Oh, so bleak

Great gains he’d won and then he’d lost
For he’d been over proud
With ghastly wounds he’d bore the cost
Pain made him scream aloud

From Dyrham’s height he thought he’d rise
But he misjudged his might
He failed in his great enterprise
And lost his final fight

Some men when struck may die right then
For fatal wounds are quick
But luckless are those weapon men
Left crippled, weak and sick

A slow Death leaves a man to rage
And rant against his lot
Or limp on to an older age
Like elms that inwards rot

And then in time sink in some slime
Of sorrow or of shame
They see Death, sweet, as if sublime
For cripples gain no fame

The hero who at Dyrham won
The Gewissae’s greatest fight
In age when all his wars were done
Would slowly fade from sight”

The Widow Wept A While

His widow there, Ah, how she wept
Then got on with her life
Her raging man was dead and gone
But so too was the strife

Her folk had gone from ebb to flow
As booty came in heaps
But where’s the glory grand on show
Where each new orphan weeps

Of weapon men who went to fight
Too many were now dead
And where’s the glory in the plight
Where widows’ tears are shed

A great king may well win his wars
And mock his foes that fled
But sad and dismal are the chores
Of those who tend the dead

For those young men now dead and cold
Young men who had been brave
Are each wrapped in their shrouds soft fold
And gone unto the grave

Now none can see a love child grow
Nor greet each warming sun
So wheres the glory let us know
When kings say “ah, we won!”

Yes widows there, Ah, how they wept
Then got on with each chore
Their weapon-men[35] were dead and gone
All gone forever more!

Dumnonia, The Old Foe, Holds Firm

Dumnonia saw the Romans come
Then saw the Romans g
This ancient realm did not succumb
When came another foe

The Britons’ lands there to the East
Had fallen one by one
Yet they had faced this fearsome beast
And were not overrun

Like Werms[36] entwined two realms then fought
Their fights would ebb and flow
Great havoc each the other wrought
Each was the others woe

The Gewissae were that fearsome beast
They faced the longest test
Long wars seemed like they’d never cease
With foes there to the West

Ceol (Son Of Cuthwulf) (A.D. 591-597)

The constant wars the loss of life
Much weeping in each hall
A folk can have a glut of strife
At end the great must fall

His usurpation ended war
Wahls seemed to be his friends
Soon all seemed as it was before
Those Wahls served their own ends

So weakened by unworthy peace
He had to live by guile
For strife it seemed would never cease
Life could be gall and bile

The path of war with loss of life
Was now reduced in scale
The Wahls though brought their constant strife
In this they never fail.

Ceolwulf (A.D. 597-611)

A son born of debauchery
Can be a faithful spouse
Devoid of any lechery
Head of a sober house

Kinsmen can be like cheese and chalk
Some rage and some will lust
Some are quiet, some must talk
Yet all go into dust

Ceolwulf he did not like excess
There’d been so much of late
For grief came with each great success
And sadness grows from hate.

A war came that he wanted not
South Saxons forced his hand
Their leader who would scheme and plot
Intent to grab some land

Ceolwulf he crushed them like a fly
That act though left its stain
This good man was oft hear to sigh
As if he was in pain

This man of peace who hated war
When he was forced to fight
Had fought so fiercely to secure
Peace by both main and might

As generations turn about
There’s constancy in change
Folk may be lost in clouds of doubt
Old ways seem quaint and strange

Cynegils (A.D. 611-643)

Cynegils first lived in ancient ways
Just like all folk of old
The truth he knew not in those days
His heart though was not cold

But war like some unwanted guest
Came knocking at his door
It seems that some must face a test
Before they are secure

Security may be hard won
Yet may not last for long
And even when the battle’s done
Yet still we must stay strong

The Harvest Of Birinus

Cynegils he put aside old ways
Birinus showed him how
The truth he told it shone ablaze
That truth is with us now

From out of darkness into light
Our dazzled kin then came
Those whom Satan sought to smite
Now knew their saviour’s name

Cwichelm’s Conversion To The Cross

Cwichelm he listened to the word
New things so strange to him
And listening then he also heard
Yet was it but a whim

New things may oft times be but quaint
A passing fancy now
And whimsies mayhap bear some taint
Yet Cwichelm swore his vow

He vowed to turn unto the light
A light all good and true
A truth that brought such sweet delight
This in his soul he knew

But Wyrd it has such wilful ways
Ways now may stay the hand
From now until the end of days
Who knows what Wyrd has planned?

Cwichelm so happy in the light
Now goodly and so true
Soon ceased to feel this world’s delight
When Death came into view

A raging pain ripped through his spine
One leg soon buckled up
Abandoning his daemon’s shrine
For his communion cup

And though the pains where never stilled
Christ’s comforts came to him
His soul within him thus was thrilled
Safe from foul hell so grim

But his heir, his obdurate son
Would not embrace the word
Ah, but in time when doubt is done
Love in the end was heard.

The father died in hope and pain
The son would face defeat
But Cerdic’s line would come again
And doubting would retreat.

Cenwalh (A.D. 643-645)

When Cenwalh first heard Christ’s good word
Cenwalh proved hard and cold
Ah, but where words may not be heard
Events see things unfold

The truth’s revealed through ebb and flow
Of turbulent events
Disasters and the darkest woe
Will have their consequence

God in his wisdom always knew
Men listen in their woe.
When Penda came and Penda slew
Then Cenwalh’s pride would go

For though he was a warrior
His heart had melted when
As exile in East Anglia
Cenwalh he listened then

Daemons he worshipped brought him low
They’d offered pure false hope
They’d failed against the Mercian foe
Sad exile Cenwalh was to mope

To mope there in that eastern court
Where Anna still held sway
He listened then and so was taught
God’s good and tender way

East Anglians took this exile in
And showed him God’s good way
He was turned from his heathen sin
God always wins the day

Foul Penda (A.D. 645-648)

Foul Penda came and Penda slew
Then Penda went his way
In all of this there’s nothing new
Wyrd moves in its own way

And many lands felt Penda’s might
And many lands would fall
Defeated Kings were put to flight
Or were at beck and call

King Cenwalh fled and lost his pride
Once obdurate and vain
Disconsolate and woe betide
He knew the exile’s pain

So far away from kith and kin
He had to hide away
He learned the wages of his sin
As for our sins we pay

At end vile Penda met his Death
This Lord of dark misrule
May hap at end with his last breath
He had been but a fool

Now Cenwalh listened to the word
At last he saw the light
He listened then, yes then he learned
Escaping Penda’s spite.

Cenwalh (A.D. 648-674)

Home coming of an exile king
Was wondrous to behold
Oh how emboldened skops they sing
Where heroes’ tales are told

There’s ebb and flow of woe and war
The Wahls attacked his land
But they’d not met his like before
Now there woes were at hand

He drove them off the Mendips high
From Selwood to the Brue
Defeated Wahl’s were left to sigh
In woe there’s nothing new

And Glastonbury the holy place
Became a Gewissae shrine
It seemed this place was touched by Grace
Its capture seemed a sign

The Wahls at last were weakened here
Our lands seemed more secure
It seemed at last sweet times were near
Hopes may have false allure

Then Cenwalh died a sudden death
He died half at a time[40]
With just a day of rattling breath
He died here passed his prime

The Great Death Of Birds (A.D.671)

Great droves of crows lay cold and dead
Bird song was rarely sung
It seemed few fluttered overhead
Dead doves lay in the dung

There was Werm venom in the air
But not close to the ground
Birds of the wing died everywhere
Folk missed their merry sound

The Blackbirds’ songs were silent then
The Skylark was not seen
And absent was the dainty Wren
All tear stained was our Queen

For near a year few were to hear
The pipit or the crow
Sad silence brought a sense of fear
In Midgard here below

At Yuletide some great swans flew by
Above a Gewissae Queen
And she was heard sadly to sigh
But smile at what was seen

A single Robin came to her
And ate from out her hand
“Not gold nor frankincense nor myrrh”
Could ever be so grand!”

The winter seemed less cold, less bleak
This bird brought warmth, brought love
The Queen herself went then to seek
The word of God above.

But great men of the church knew not
Why all of this had been
For who may know the why or what –
God’s mysteries are supreme!

So sadder though and wiser then
Her eyes seemed open wide
As she consoled her great lord when
He was took ill and died.

Queen Seaxburgh (A.D. 672-674)

The land it seemed adrift as in a dream
In summer’s sultry haze most seemed so still
Yet ripples on the eddies in the stream
Reflected sunshine warm on waters chill

Each bird that flew it flew with languorous flight
With no clouds now the sun baked some fields dry
A warm portent of famine and of plight
But torpid folk seemed to fatigued to sigh

For where’s the strength to sigh in so much heat
Where is the strength to do that much at all?
And all now droops before the Sun’s deceit
Save for one blackbird with its warning call

Her old lord king was dead and gone to Grace
This mother of a king now ruled his land
She held the reins a short while in his place
Though all was still – tumult was close at hand

The envy of the lesser men so low
Just would not see a woman could be wise
As envy at its height brings nought save woe
A tumult stirred beneath the still blue sky

Cenfus (A.D.674)

Now Cenfus came and Cenfus went
Within so short a time
For Wyrd so cruel may not relent
Some die before their prime

His Mother’s pride this tender man
Her hopes were all in him
But he lived for so short a span
His Mother’s grief was grim

The plans she had for her dear son
Were gone quite in a trice
So when the funerary rites were done
False Hope seemed like some vice

How had she sinned to be brought low
What he been her cruel crime
She sank beneath the weight of woe
Death beckoned now sublime

Beyond the grips of grief so raw
The dead have found relief
Yes, Death it was she held in awe
This Mother in her grief

Her wish at end became her gain
Like her son she was dead
Embracing Death she showed no pain
Twas living held most dread

Aescwine (A.D. 674-676)

Aescwine’s reign was brief but great
Mad Mercia felt his might
They taught our folk here how to hate
And then they picked a fight

There’s surging venom in the veins
Of Gewissae when at bay
This time the Mercians made no gains
For Aescwine won the day

He was like to a comet then
This king whose reign was brief
Our memories of him are when
He taught our foe pure grief.

A comet’s glow though brief is bright
Some light up most the sky
Theirs is a truly splendid light
But too soon they must die

While some are portents of great good
The Magi knew of one
And some seem so misunderstood
Few know what might be done

This brief life of a warrior king
Showed portents of a day
When Death might lose its mortal sting
And peace reign some sweet day.

Centwine (A.D. 676)

When he’d been king for just two years
Two comets lit the sky[42]
They’re such portents of hopes and fears
Some folk were seen to cry

Centwine had not yet seen the light
Could they now be a sign?
Yet those who had the second sight
Said all things would be fine

And then the Wahls raged from the west
Towards Glastonbury
Now in this here they were not blessed
Their aims they proved desultory

In time of peace Centwine had taught
We must prepare for war
That war was bitter and well fought
The Wahls fled to the shore[43]

Much shore marsh then it now was ours
We settled that strange place
It seemed filled with such mystic powers
It could be touched by Grace.

A strange rain fell it seemed like blood
And milk and butter bled
The fields were stained with such strange mud
All pasture grass was dead[44]

King Centwine went unto the church
Caedwalla took the crown
Our land then made a war-wards lurch
With deeds of mixed renown!

The Mother Of Ina’s Bride

The mother of the bride seethed in disgust
Her hatred for the groom now filled her soul
And all because Ina was sound and just
Beyond manipulation and control
Unmoved by wily ways he made good law
Caedwalla’s rule brought gains, ah, but much strife
Blood feuds raged cruel and long and dark and raw
It led to folly and to loss of life
But she’d manipulated men so well
She thought she could manipulate them all
She’d sinned in life as her prelude to hell
She’d risen near the top and now would fall
Yes, Ina did those things each good king should
Her influence good Ina had withstood

The Line Of Ina’s Bride

Centwine had been betrayed at end
Usurped he faced a fall
Kings ought know no man’s a friend
Compatriots that’s all

There’s many here who would be king
The traitor and the knave
Though yet it seems the usual thing
That few of these are brave

This woman of the royal house
Or so stark rumour ran
With craft and cunning and dark nous
Would dream and scheme and plan

The Bard Among The Wahls

The bard among the Wahls he sang his dirge
He sang of times long gone in voice so wan
He sang with long lost hopes of their resurge
This Wahl and his laments went on and on
His folk they seemed immersed in some dark sin
That long ago gave them some cross to bear
We as their long time foe just could not win
For to the west the Wahls are everywhere
It seems from sadness they may gain some force
Where we may love to laugh they love to cry
And so our wars with them must take their course
Inexorable is Wyrd so why ask “why?”
In times of peace we meet with them again
Then wars will come and both of us know pain

Ina The Lawmaker (A.D. 688-726)

Ina had fought long in the west
The stubborn Wahls fought well
His long wars they would be a test
Ah, hear each funerary knell

At Lydeard Camp the Wahls were strong
And well intent on war
Gerren their king would do much wrong
Like Wahls had done before

Yet Ina won against this force
Though there was ebb and flow
While fighting wars may cause remorse
Still victory brings its glow

The church was granted lands he gained[45]
So they might be immune
Attacking them would leave souls stained
This Wahls could not oppugn

While force and might may win a fight
By guile a foe’s made tame
For canny kings secure a site
When they intone God’s name

The Mercians too would learn to rue
The folly of their ways
At Adams Grave where Ina slew
And brought us better days

He gave to us good law and more
He was our guiding flame
His like had not been here before
Ah, blessed be his fame

The Skop At The Wedding

In Ina’s time we are secure
Foul Penda’s spawn are dead
The lands we hold have sweet allure
And we dwell not in dread

With victory after victory now
It seems old sooths were true
These bounteous lands are ours to plough
Soft is the morning dew

The grass it always grows so lush
The trees they bear such fruit
With joyous songs sung by the thrush
Who needs to play a flute?

There’s music all about the land
With birds in every tree
It seems like heavens near at hand
The Gewissae now are free

Free from most foes and free from fear
Though one foe to the west
Is like some nuisance ever near
But we’re up to that test

For Ina’s built a mighty fort
To keep them from the Tone
We prayed the Wahls may now gain nought
And leave our realm alone

Ina At The Wells[46]

The Wells below the hills were cool and clear
A chapel near the Wells was built of wood
Past wars meant folk here had long dwelt in fear
It’s here that Ina strove and would do good
To build a mother church here in this place
Beside these welling waters sweet and clean
For it is said they have been touched by Grace
As on a moonlit night they seem to sheen.
Sheen, it is said just like an angel’s wings
As they reflect the light from He on High.
Each gentle trickling flow that seeming sings
When swirling round the stones as they flow by
A place like this seemed so devoid of flaws
It’s here he’ll build his church and write his laws

The Wake Of Aethelburg’s Mother

Aelfwine the skop sat in the hall
A lyre in his hand
He’d sing here at folk’s beck and call
This great skop of our land

He sang a song an elegy
But it seemed out of place
Death may not form some tragedy
When gone is one disgrace

With duty to the dead soon done
Which could not come too soon
He set good riddles just for fun
Then strummed a merry tune

The gathered throng called “Sing the Kings”
For happiness was here
More chords were strummed upon some strings
The skop rose to a cheer.

A crystal voice so sweet so clear
Then seemed to fill that hall
As every word all there could hear
And all were held in thrall

They loved the songs of long ago
Songs of their ancient kin
Of Fortune’s every ebb and flow
Of every loss and win…

Queen Aethelburg – Taunton Defendamus[47] (A.D.722)

Wahls thought their fight had been well fought
Fought with such grand renown
But our brave Queen would leave them nought
For she just torched the town

The fort and town they are no more
Warm ashes soon grow cold
The fight had been a gruelling chore
Retreats too can be bold!

The Wahls they lost at end of day
For ashes are no gains
A warring Queen now was at bay
Inflicting yet more pains

She blocked the river miles down stream
Blocked access to the sea
Though few of us are as we seem
We’re as the Norns decree

Now Ina’s Queen was deadly steel
Steel sharpened on the stone
When Wahls before her came to kneel
She forced them to atone

The tan[48] stain in the river’s flow
Was what gave it the name.
The Wahls there ceased to act the foe
Defeat brings its own shame

To westward then she gained some peace
With Wahls stung by defeat
Their failed assaults were forced to cease
She’d won with her retreat

The Old Skop In The Glade

An ancient skop he sang an ancient song
Sang of the visions Woden taught his kin
These ancient ways had kept his folk here strong
Helped them to face defeats and then to win

The Mutilated Skop

“Now here this women and you men
You’ll hear the next new lay
Here in a year and plus one day
So I’ll leave you ‘til then….”

Last Words By Julian The Scribe

I held the heathen words that had been sung in dread and yet I know Hygferth is no heathen. It seems he is learned in the old lore of this land. I was gladdened by his promise to return here to sing again next year at yuletide. I know there is a sadness and a darkness that overcomes his soul from time to time. I have cared for him and watched him these many years and feared he might never again enter the world of men preferring the seclusion of our abbey. Yes, now I am heartened as I see he now considers that he has a future. I must write now to his mother in her old age thanking her for placing Hygferth in the care of our holy house.

...As a monk I find most inspiration in Easter and not so much in yuletide.  This is still the case but I, like Hygferth, hope to return to the Hall by Oath Hill next year.