The Prince Be ((sample))
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The Prince Be
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In a time far removed from ours and nearly forgotten by modern man this story takes place. It seems since the beginning of the Early Modern era – the 1400s – everyone has come up with a story of “King Arthur’s court.” Well this, my friend is the first part of what happened.
Why just part you ask? Because mi-lord asked for a simple tale to close this evening’s festivities; if the court is pleased with this story this simple bard would be honored to continue this saga when mi-lord and milady sees fit to call for it. Let your mind recall the days of old when the Roman Empire was in shambles and the eastern barbarians’ attacks where ever so frequent.
Remember when Briton’s eastern and southern coasts had been badly pillaged and the barbarians had for the last many years started establishing settlements in these areas. Remember…..
The Barbarians are becoming more and more brave and have started forging farther west and north in their raids. What remains of the tribes of Briton have come to realize they are just the ride of one master and a new master is attempting to destroy or subdue them. Due to this threat, a meeting of all the tribes and clans was arranged, from the northernmost Scots to the Western of Wales, and what remains of the southern and eastern ones. Many of the tribes and clans still believed in the old ways, the ways before the Christianity-carrying Romans, and all the tribes and clans agreed to meet at the second most sacred place next to the stone circle, the Isle of Man.
At the appointed date of two full moons before Beltane, all the tribe and clan leaders had arrived on the Isle to discuss their future. They all secretly realized that at the very least they must forge an alliance among themselves, end the fighting among themselves, and fight not only like their ancestors: the mainland Celts, but also like the Romans; driven, kill or be killed, war paint, banners, war horns, cavalry, archers, spear men, infantry, and armored. Many of the eastern Barbarians had been coming in armor and if the tribes of Briton fought like their mainland ancestors: in nothing but their war paint, small shield, and sword: then their cause was lost.
The holy ones secretly planned for this meeting to be settled and over by Beltane eve so that the one all the tribes agreed to make commander of their joint forces could be “crowned” on Beltane. The great leaders of the clans and tribes of Briton discussed, yelled, and negotiated the conditions of their arrangement: who shall be the leader of their allied forces, how many of what these forces shall be composed of, how high the individual tribe or clan banners will fly in comparison to the allied banner, what the separate allied banner should be, how many men and horses each of the clans and tribes should commit to the allied force. Within a weeks time before the Beltane fires were to be lit the council had agreed to everything except the most important aspect, which they had been debating or rather fighting about, for a good fortnight: who should lead the forces. Some of the larger tribes and clans wanted to be in charge of the forces by having the firstborn son of their chieftain as the new leader. Of course, this severely upset the smaller clans and tribes because they knew this would put them at a disadvantage and cause them not to be treated as equals to the larger ones.
To aid in the choice of who will lead the forces against the barbarians the holy ones suggested that all the tribes and clans keep their firstborn sons for leading their forces and for inheriting their father’s title and choosing by lottery. Each clan and tribe would enter one name, the living second or third son of the chieftain, into the lottery for the position of leader of the alliance forces and the high priestess would randomly choose the name of the leader. All other names submitted to the lottery would then become this man’s lieutenants –all of equal standing with one another, all the lieutenants would be expected to give their oath to serve him faithfully, to always defend all of Briton against the Barbarian incursion, and to respect all the regions of the land equally. With much grumbling and some high hearts, all the leaders agreed to this proposal. So the scribes for each tribe and clan recorded on parchment the name of the second or third-born boy-child of the chieftain.
Once all the names were collected by the high priestess’ handmaiden in one large basket and mixed around, the basket was taken to the high priestess. She called to the five elements and to the Gods and Goddesses to guide her hand in choosing the savior of all that is or was Briton. She extended her hand down into the basket, moved it here to there, there to here before coming to rest on a slit of parchment. She withdrew her hand and the parchment. She opened her eyes to the silent crowd of old and young men before her. She opened the parchment and read the name to her self – smiling in her heart as she knew her vision had come true and she held the name of the champion of Briton in her hand. She looked up at the silent crowd around her – not a single eye blinked, nor a single man breathed as they awaited hearing the name of the man who was to lead their men in defense of them all. She calmly announced the name of Briton’s defender: “Arthurius Pendragon.”
The room quickly filled with murmurs of confused and excitable voices of the men before her. The Pendragon was the leader of a small clan in the Northwestern region of the Scots. Arthurius was the second born of The Pendragon, Uthen, his brother Uthurius was heir apparent, had a gimp leg from it being badly broken by the leader of a band of rouge Roman soldiers before his men could finish him and his men off. Little was known of Arthurius’ ability to fight or his ability to lead since he was but a few years out of Avon and such a young man of eight and ten.