Scotia
by: Kay
At the circle of stones in our world’s Scotland is where this story begins. A recently widowed woman and her three children are attending a Pagan festival there ran by the Druids this year. This circle of stones is very much like Stonehenge in England but not as widely documented or visited so it keeps much of its natural wonder and mystic. At the festival, the stone circle is understood to be off limits because of strange occurrences that are rumored to have occurred there. Our story’s main character, recently widowed woman is Morgaine. She is an American born pagan that considers her self to be as much Witch as she is Druid. She has also traced her Scottish ancestry back to the MacKay clan. Her three son’s names are: Jonathan, Nikolai, and Gwydion, who will also be with her on this journey.
While at the festival Morgaine was buying some items she needed and young Nikolai and Gwydion ran off into the circle of stones. Morgaine drops what she was buying, her son Jonathan and her take off after them. She thinks to her self when she sees her little ones enter the stone circles, “I just lost my husband, I’ll be damned if I’ll loss my children!” Once they catch up to the children inside the structure she scolds them and tells them not to do that again. As they go to leave she is still so upset she forgets what the High Priestess told her about the circle of stones, “if you ever enter the circle of stones you must leave the same why you entered or you may be lost in the mists between the lands forever.” Forgetting this the children and her exit thorough a different opening. When they come out of the structure they find themselves not in mists as the priestess had suggested, and not at the festival, but in a different land. Morgaine looked up at the sky. It was clear, not smoggy; not overcast as it had been at the festival, but clean crisp smelling and feeling air. The landscape was different too. Not extremely different, but the hills were taller, more defined. There were no cement roads, no cars, the forest was far vaster, and the land was quieter, more peaceful; much like when you go deep into the woods and you are completely separated from civilization – peaceful. Morgaine turned and attempted to reenter the circle of stones but they were different too, less aged, less worn from time and weather. She could not enter the stones. She and her children where stuck in this new world. She would have to make do and make sure her children survived.
After a few hours of walking toward the open plains that they had seen from a tall hill, they came out of the woods onto a clearing and found a battle below. She started guiding her children around the battle of what appeared to be two bands of warriors. As they made their way around the battle the ground forced them to move down the hill and onto the flat area that they where fighting on. Noticing three horses, which had no owners anymore, grazing unattended not far away Morgaine led her children to them and took one for her self, put her two youngest boys onto another, and gave the last one to her oldest Jonathan.
Once they were mounted they started moving away from the shifting battle and she told her children, “if the battle overtakes us, I want you, Jon, to take your siblings on and hide in the forest at the top of the hill for me; you are not yet skilled enough to fight these men with sword and dagger. I have many more years experience fighting with them and with bow and arrow then you do, promise me you’ll do what I ask.” Reluctantly Jonathan agreed, knowing his mother was right, that he had only, with in the last year, started actively learning how to use a sword. “Nikolai, Gwydion, I want you two to go with Jonathan if we get overcome, do you understand? Promise me you will,” she said. After a fair amount of whining they agreed, not wanting to be separated from their mother. “What will you do if this happens?” asked Jonathan. “I will fight them to give ya’ll time to escape and attempt to make an escape after you do,” she answered knowing it would not be easy to escape once she engaged them.
Shortly after Morgaine gave these instructions to her children the battle overtook them, as she feared it would. They were nearly surrounded by men fighting one another and several of the wild looking ones started trying to dismount the children and one had Morgaine by the ankle. “RIDE! RIDE ON!” she cried to her children as she slayed the men attacking them and attempted to stay mounted. Her boys looked at her in fear, not wanting to leave but knowing they had to. “RIDE ON! BY THE GODDESS RIDE ON! I WILL BE WITH YOU BEFORE NIGHT FALL! RIDE!” she screamed at them. And with that they rode towards the hill. She had no time to worry about her kids at that time because she had to fight to keep the men from following them and to keep them from killing her.
The amount of time that past will probably never be known but before she realized it she was blood soaked, sweaty, tired, and surrounded by bodies. She had long since been dismounted and her horse had fled. She saw the battle was far from over and she still did not have a safe escape route, so she used the gift that the Goddess had given her and that she had been thoroughly trained in as a Witch and as a Druid. She was also aware that these men would be awed and frightened by what she was soon to do. There were myths in her world of powerful women that had been considered battle maidens (the legend of Morgan La Fey is one such story rooted in Irish and Scottish folklore). Morgaine then stuck her sword into the ground, closed her eyes, called on the Goddesses and the Gods and asked them for help, to let her become the Raven, to let her see over the battlefield, down to the seas, and to strike fear in the invaders whom she was fighting. She felt herself stretching up to the sky, over the battlefield, she saw the battlefield growing dark as she blocked out the sun, and she could see the beaches and the Saxton ships in the bay. She turned her sight back to the battlefield and as she flew over she called out to the warriors below who had stopped their fighting and were staring up at her, “Invaders! Warriors from over the sea! Leave now or be smited by my wrath! You are not wanted here! You will all die if you continue on this way! LEAVE! NEVER RETURN!” With this all the invaders, on the battlefield, coming to the battle, and on the beaches, ran back the way they came. By the time the ones from the battlefield reached the bay the ships they came on where turned and leaving. They didn’t stop. They ran into the water, armor and all, attempting to reach their ships. Many died, but enough lived to tell of the battle maiden who turned into a raven and spouted out fire.
After the invaders turned and ran, she released the deities and fell sharply back into her body. As she came to her senses she leaned on her sword for support, for she was totally exhausted now. From behind her she felt a presence, thinking it was still one of the invaders she pulled her sword out of the ground and turned to fight the person. Only instead of finding a Saxton she found what appeared to be a Celtic nobleman. “Easy! Are you all right? How did you do that? How did you drive them away? You must be one of our priestesses from the Holy Isle. Come, come with me and camp with us. You will be safe with me, or is it I’ll be safe with you?” To that the young nobleman smiled and took her by the hand. He aided her in mounting his horse behind him and took her to the forest to find her children.
After they camped for a few days and buried their dead, the tribesmen continued on for the chiefdom, the home and property of the young man. The Young man that Morgaine had encountered that took her to her children was the chief of the de Bruce clan, named Accolon. Along the way she noticed peasants bartering for what they wanted from one another in the small villages.
Once they reached Accoloon’s castle he arranged for Morgaine and her children to have their separate wing of the castle not far from his. At the festival the following day Accolon pulled aside Morgaine’s son Jonathan, who being the eldest would be the one to say, and asked him if he would approve of him and his mother to marry. He wanted to offer her a dowry. Jonathan deferred Accolon to his mother not knowing what to say. As Accolon searched for Morgaine in the crowded courtyard he thought long and hard on what he would offer her as a bride price. Once he found her he asked her to marry him, that as a payment to her house for her he would set aside a nice area of his property for her children and have a castle built on the easiest fortified spot. This property was to go to her oldest son and be passed on that way. Morgaine approved of this bride price.
A few years after their marriage and the birth of their son Uwaine, war came to their land again. Once again it was the Saxons invading from the east. During this battle Accolon was slightly wounded, but the Celtic tribesman fought the Saxons out of their land once more.
The Prince Be, the Beginning
by: Kay
In a time far removed from ours and nearly forgotten by modern man this story takes place. It seems since the beginning of the pre-modern era – the 1400’s – everyone has come up with a story of “King Arthur’s court.” Well this, my friend is the first part of what really 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 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 northern most Scots to the Western most 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 prior to Beltane all the tribe and clan leaders had arrived on the Isle to discuss their future. They all secretly realized that in the very least they must forge an alliance amongst themselves, end the fighting amongst themselves, 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, spearmen, 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 first born 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 in 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 first born sons for leading their own forces and for inheriting their father’s title and choose by lottery. Each clan and tribe would enter one name, the living second or third son of the chieftain, into the lottery for 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’s 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 murmur’s 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 know 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.