Shhhh, they'll take away my "Former English Teacher" card!!!
Glad you've been enjoying this very fun, but very very long series of posts
Last edited:
The Amalingian Empire: The Story of the Gothic-Roman Empire
- Thread starter DanMcCollum
- Start date
Shhhh, they'll take away my "Former English Teacher" card!!!
Glad you've been enjoying this very fun, but very very long series of posts
Well I'm about 2/3rds of the way through the most recent chapter and hope to have it done by the end of the weekend! Expect a new chapter either tomorrow or on Sunday. After that, I'm hoping to get the Caoimhe cycle of tales done in two or three (at the MOST) chapters. At it stands, it's currently written about 64 pages of her tale; which means she is accounting for about a fifth of the entire timeline so far!! Which is, to say the least, somewhat shocking
Chapter 73 All Roads Lead to Rome (Part 6 of the Caoimhe Cycle)
Chapter 73
All Roads Lead to Rome
The Column of Thorismund II. Erected before the Rostra, in 673 AD, the Column of Thorismund II was a gift of the Emperor to the Senate of Rome. This would be the last addition made to the Roman Forum, prior to the Ruination and the Fall of Rome.
Part 5: The Disaster at Rome
Following their victory over Godas and his accursed magician Yeddas, Caoihme and her Brotherhood hoped to quickly return to their own Kingdom, for they had won great wealth during this expedition and now wished to return to their own homes and estates. However, Hilderic was so grateful for their service that he would not allow them depart without a show of his own generosity. And so, the Brotherhood found themselves entertained in feast after feast.
One night, during one such feast, there came a knock upon the doors of Hilderic’s hall. The doors opened and in strode a man dressed in the finest of clothing – the whole court gasped when they saw him, for all agreed they had never seen a man dressed in such rich garments before. Some believed that he must have come from far off Constantinople, while others openly said that they believed he could only have come from far off India to be dressed in such a way. [FN1]
The man’s name was Conchobhar and he was a messenger then in the employ of Lachtna, who was then ruling over the city of Rome as its King. [FN2]
“Hilderic, rightful King of the Vandals,” Conchobhar said, “I apologize for intruding upon this grand feast. However, I have been instructed by my master, Lachtna, the most pious and glorious King of the Romans, to come to you today and express his joy that you have returned to the throne that is rightfully yours!”
Hilderic nodded his head, “And it is my honor to receive you today as a guest, Conchobhar, servant of that most gentile of Kings, Lachtna of the Romans. Please, allow me to extend hospitality to you as a guest – sit and partake of this meal with us.”
“I would be most honored,” Conchobhar said and he and his attendants soon joined in the general festivities and were made to feel most welcome. They were served the richest of meats, the finest of wines, and many delicacies which came to Carthage from those rich and mysterious lands to the south; nothing was denied them.
At the time, Caoihme was seated, as usual, in the seat of honor next to Hilderic. She noticed that Conchobhar kept casting his eyes upon her. This was not unusual as she was a great beauty and often caught the attention of men; though many would often flee upon learning her name and deeds.
Next to Caoihme that night sat Domhnal an Gearr. Noticing the messenger and the special attention he was giving to Caoihme, Domhnal leaned over and said “I do not trust that man, nor his master. For is it not said that I have the eyes of the Lynx, that can perceive this world and the other? When my eyes alight upon him, I see only a blackened and false heart.”
But Caoimhe was taken by the man’s rich appearance and paid no heed to the warnings of her friend. She went to him and said, “I have seen your wandering eyes cast themselves upon me all night. Know this; many men whose eyes who have wandered such before, have found themselves plucked out! Tell me what it is that either you or your master want.”
“My fairest Queen,” Conchobhar said and bowed deeply, “truly I met no disrespect. You are right, that I have interest in you, though I think it is not as you suspect. I was sent here upon an errand by my master King Lachtna to search you out and deliver to you a message. However, upon arriving I myself was taken by your great beauty and the stories of your many victories and found that my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth so that I was unable to speak. I beg your forgiveness and offer a thousand pardons for my behavior.”
“You speak beautifully,” Caoimhe stated, “as if you wish your words to match the rich garments that you drape yourself in. But I have long held that a man who wishes to present himself as rich is often very poor in honor in heart, and runs the risk of losing his richness and life in the process.”
“Certainly, Conchobhar said, “you speak wisely my Queen. Though in my case, you would be quite wrong. For I was once a warrior, the same as you, and I have served the great city of Rome all my life in whatever capacity she requires of me. Once I was a fighter and now I am a speaker. My own role means little to me, what matters more is the glory and triumph of my city.”
“Truly,” Caoimhe said, “the stories are true and you Romans are a strange race indeed. However, I would be lying if I said that I was not intrigued by your words. Please, pray tell, what would your Master, the great King Lachtna, have of me?”
“My Queen, he wishes nothing less than to pledge his heart to you. He has heard of the passing of your late husband and knew the grief that must have gripped your heart, for he too has lost a wife early in his life. He sought to hold his tongue out of respect for your bereavement but when word of your astonishing victory here in Carthage reached his ears and he could contain himself no longer.”
Then Conchobhar fell upon his knees before the great Queen and said, “My Master wished me to present you with a gift of gold and precious stones and invite you to Rome so that you may meet him face to face. He wishes nothing less than to make you his wife and for you to rule Rome by his side.”
“Other man had spoken such words to me throughout the years, though few so eloquently I will admit. Know this – there is a geis upon my head that I am unable to turn down the heart of a man who truly pledges it to me. But know this too: of the many men who have come to me before, all now lay head and all but one of them fell at my own hand. Does your Master understand this?”
“He does, o Queen. Which is why he does not wish to formally propose until such a time as you have met him face to face and know him to be a true and just lord who does not seek to dishonor you in any way.”
Then he motioned to one of his attendants and they brought forth a great chest, and within it was gold and jewels of the highest quality. “Should you wish to accept his offer or not, my King wishes you to have this gift on behalf of him and the Senate and People of Rome.”
“Very well,” Caoihme said, “I will consider your offer.” But she was still a young woman, and the words of Conchobhar excited her far more than she was willing to admit. Only Dohmnal an Gearr saw this, for his sight was precise indeed and he was often able to see into the hearts of others, though he rarely spoke of what he had seen.
The next day Caoihme gathered her Brotherhood to her and said, “Last night a messenger of Lachtna, the great King of Romans came to this court with a message for me. He states that his King wishes to marry me. Now, many a man has made similar pledges and they have fallen upon my sword. However, I feel that Lachtna is true to his word and that I should entertain him. He has invited me to Rome so that we may meet face to face.”
“However, I would be loath to travel hence without my loyal Brotherhood who have slipped and shed blood by myside for so many years. Truly, I could ask for no greater companions than you all! So now, I say this: I wish that we set sail for Rome immediately. However, if any of you wish to travel back to our Kingdom I shall not stop you, for we have fought long and fought hard and I cannot ask you to tarry away from that land that you love any longer.”
At this the men all broke into a spontaneous cheer and cried “Queen Caoimhe, our sister, we would follow you to the gates of hell and beyond. Only say that word and we shall follow you to Rome.”
Only Domhnal seemed disquieted and he went to his Queen and said, “Do not trust these men, for their hearts are black. I do not know what this King Lachtna wants of you, but I suspect it is not your hand! This warning I must give you, and it would wish for me not to follow you any longer, I understand. But I could not sooner bite by tongue than allow a foe to drive a blade into the back of one of my brothers.”
“Domhnal an Gearr,” Caoimhe responded, “you have fought by my side since before I came to rule to Brotherhood. Do you not remember that you were one of the first to welcome me into our fianna after my husband Eterscel bade me join? When others ostracized me for killing their comrades, so that I thought I might have to add a few more heads to my belt, it was you who pulled me aside and made me feel welcome. I could no sooner banish you from my presence thanI could could put off my own sword hand. If I were to do so, it would weaken me greatly! And since become Queen I have always told my brothers that I valued their advice. Do not think me so petty or cruel that I would turn my back upon you now.”
“Then,” he asked, “will you reconsider?”
“No,” she stated, “I will not. For this could well strengthen our Kingdom and I have made up my mind to at least meet King Lachtna face to face and judge his character for myself.”
“Then,” Domhnal said, “I fear that we shall suffer our first great defeat and be driven back into the sea.”
“Do you wish to return to our Kingdom and there seek the arms of your wife?”
“No. I stand by my words, but I also stand by my vowes, and I have vowed to fight for you until the end of my days. I have said my peace, but you are my Queen and sister, and I shall follow where you lead.”
The next day Caoimhe and her Brotherhood departed Carthage with great fanfare. King Hilderic himself came out to the port to wish them well and the Bishop of Carthage himself came out to bless their journey. Though he was an Arian and Caoimhe Orthodox, he thankfully accepted the blessed and gave part of her gift from Lachtna to him to erect a church in honor of her late husband Eterscel. The Bishop was so moved by this gift that he promised to not interfere with any Gaelic monks that would come to Vandaland. [FN3]
However, Domhnal an Gearr’s vision was true and he was not leading his Queen astray. For King Lachtna was a false and wicked man. He had come to rule over the Romans and wanted nothing less than to spread his power throughout all the known world. Caoimhe’s victories in Carthage had proven that she was a real threat to his power, and he feared that she might come to Rome and overthrow him as she has Godas. And so, he and his advisor Conchobhar had crafted a sinister plot. They would invite Caoimhe to Rome to marry him and then fall upon her and bind her in chains. Then she would join his harem, and he would be rid of a great threat to his own rule. [FN4]
And so the fleet of the Brotherhood sailed, first reaching Sicily where they stayed for some time, being geated by the King there. There Caoimhe was asked to intervene in a case of great importance to the court in Sicily. The KIng at the time was an elderly man by the name of Giovi who had been married many times, but not yet procured a son, though he was said to have hald twelve daughters, each more beautiful than the last. The lack of a male heir brought him great shame for he feared that the crown of Sicily would fall away from his family upon his death. [FN5]
King Giovi had heard tell of a beautiful Greek Princess who then resided in the court at Constantinople. The Emperor in the East was her uncle and greatly loved his niece and could deny her nothing. Giovi had sent diplomats to Constantinople to arrange a marriage between himself and the Emperor’s niece, whose name was Aita. The Emperor saw that Giovi would be a strong ally and sought to convince his niece of the marriage, but she was obstinate and refused. Finall, in desperation, Giovi sent the girl a gift of gold and jewls along with three of his greatest poets to convince her of the sophistication and wealth of his court. She was finally convinced and said that she would marry him “though he is an old man.”
Sadly, King Giovi was unable to go and gather his to-be bride himself. Some say his health was bad and it would have been ruined by a long sea journey, while others say that he was distracted by great matters of state as the Ruination threatened to consume his realm as well as the whole of the Empire. In any case, King Giovi tasked his own nephew, Miceli to sail to Constantinople and to deliver his bride to him. Miceli was loyal to his Uncle and had long been the old man’s favorite.
Upon seeing Aita for the first time, however, Miceli fell madly in love with the girl and she with him. Their loyalty to their respective families, however, kept them apart. However, eventually their passions for one another became so great that they were unable to hold them back any longer, and they professed their love for one another. Unsure of what to do, Miceli and Aita ordered that the ship they were on should travel south and they arrived in the city of Alexandria and there were married by the Patriarch of that city themselves. King Giovi was enraged when news reached him of his nephew’s betrayal. He stated that anyone who could bring him the head of his nephew would be given a great estate and those who could also bring him his betrothed to be tried as an adulterer would be named his own heir.
Miceli and Aita lived on the run for many years, always staying one step ahead of King Giovi’s spies and merceneries. During this time, Aita gave birth to twins – a boy named Marcu and a girl named Candelora. Tired of running, wishing safety for their children, and also overcome with remorse for betraying their families, the two made their way back to Sicily to throw themselves upon the mercy of the King. There, upon arrival, they were both thrown into chains and et to stand judgment.
This trial coincided with the arrival of Caoimhe and her Brotherhood. At the time the King had a problem, as the common people of the island overwhelmingly supported the couple, for they were young and in love. He feared that any judgment against them would incite the people to rise against him, even though he had ruled justl for 40 years and protected them from many threats. At the same time, he could not set them free for it would make people whisper that he had grown old, infirm and weak.
And so, he hatched upon the scheme of asking Caoihme to stand trial over the couple. If she found them innocent, then King Giovi would be popular for showing mercy and wisdom by asking an impartial third party to judge the case. But if the couple was found guilty, then the King could honestly claim it was not he who passed judgement upon them.
The trail began with the couple being drug into the court of the King and each told their story. They explained how they had not wished to betray their families, but that God had placed a great ove between them and they could no longer stand against it than one could the tide. Aita spoke of the great love she had for her twin children and her desire that they be safe and cared for. Meanwhile, the supporters of King Giovi explained of the contract that had been created and how he was still childless and the dangers that came upon a realm when there was no heir.
In the end Caoimhe found in favor of the couple. She stated that that a woman should have the right to choose their own husband, and that a love which had been granted by God could not be broken by the powers of this world. However, she suggested a compromise. There was, at that time, a young Vandal girl who had attached herself to Caoimhe as a servant – though she came from a noble Vandal family. This girl was taken with King Giovi and felt pity for his plight. Caoimhe suggested that the King marry this girl and that, should he still have no male son, that Miceli be named his heir.
This was seen as wise by all present and soon King Gioni was married to the Vandal noble girl. However, he would never have the son he so desired, and it would be Miceli that would assume the throne of Sicily in the years to come. [FN6]
Having settled this dispute, Caoihme and the Brotherhood traveled on to Rome. They rested their currachs upon the shore and traveled up the Tiber until they reached the walls of Rome itself. There they were met with a great festival, as the people of the city turned out to greet them, for the deeds of the Brotherhood had already passed to the four corners of the Earth and all knew of their adventures.
At the gate was Conchobhar who stood before them in all of his finery. “Queen Caoimhe,” he said, “it is with great pleasure I welcome you to the city of Rome and the realm of my king Lachtna! He bids that you enter into our fair city so that you may meet him and, god willing, deign to discuss the terms of your marriage.”
But then Caoimhe, taken with the splendor of Rome though she was, remembered the words of Domhnal an Gearr. “What type of Queen could I be to enter into a city as fine as Rome without an honor guard? I shall come to your King, but I shall do so with a guard of my own. For it would not be befitting of a Queen to meet her potential husband without a display of her own wealth. How else would he know that she is serious?”
Conchobhar smiled, though there was discomfort upon his face. “Truly, you once again speak with a wisdom that if far beyond your years my Queen. Please, choose a dozen of your men to escort you into our city.”
“A dozen,” Caoimhe asked. “Do you find me to be so poor that I could only find a dozen men to be my guard? Nay, certainly I could happily bring in two hundred. But that would be unseemly, and I would hate for my future husband to believe that I wished to steal his city and crown from him. For two hundred Gaelic men are easily worth two thousand men of any other race. So, instead, I shall bring two dozen, to set his mind at ease.”
“Yes, that it very appropriate. Once again, you are right,” Conchobhar said.
So, the next day, Caoimhe arrived at the gates the city and presented herself along with two dozen of her finest warriors. And among these was Domhnal an Gearr who had proven himself so astute and loyal in the past. It was he who had spoken to her and warned caution, and she wished to keep him close and rely upon his advice.
Caoimhe and her Honor Guard passed through th gates of Rome and were met with fanfare as if they were celebrating a Triumph. The people of the city turned out to shower them either praise and flowers. Caoimhe responded in kind and threw out torrents of gold from her conquests to the crowd, and they responded with love and adoration. Soon the entire crowd was chanting and the name Caoimhe was on everyone’s lips.
At this, Conchobhar began to fear, for if Caoimhe turned the people of Rome against his King than their plan would surely fail and it was likely that they would lose their lives as well.
Finally, they came to the Lachtna’s palace and were escorted inside where a great feast was being held in their honor. Lachtna himself came out to greet them, and he was a tall an of fair complexion, blond hair, and had the body of a warrior. There were those that whispered he was Caesar come again in the flesh. Caoimhe found herself smitten, her heart yearned upon seeing such a man, but reminded herself to take the advice of her advisors.
“My Queen,” Lachtna said, throwing his hands wide, “you see now that the people of Rome love you.”
“Yes,” she said, “and I love them as well, for they are a fair and good people.”
“Well then,” he said, “we are well met. For they love me as well!” And at this he threw handful after handful of gold into the crowd and they roared with adoration. King Lachtna was trying to win back the loyalty of the crowd, for he feared that Caoimhe had won them over with her wealth and good nature.
“It seems that you have certainly bought the loyalty of these good people,” Caoimhe said, “for your coffers are deep indeed.”
“That they are, my Queen. But my coffers are shallowed compared to the depth of love my heart holds for you. For you are a figure of beauty and strength indeed – did you not plunder along the coast for years, sending so many fleeing at the mention of your name? Did you not conquer a kingdom for yourself, moved out of pity for the inhabitants of a benighted and overlooked land? Did you not liberate Carthage from the hands of an unworthy and untrue king? Truly, even the Amazons of old never did produce a woman of your beauty, fame or talents.”
“You flatter me,” my King. “For I have heard tales of your deeds as well and, though they are not as striking as my own, they are still those of a brave and capable man. For I have heard it tell that it was you who rode with Theodoric II when he conquered the Franks, and it was you who saved his life when the Saxons fell upon his host. All of his personal guard fell but you, and when the battle fog had lifted, you stood atop a mountain of heathen dead like a conquering hero of old. And was it not you who slew the usurper Gainas the Reaver by your own hand and ended his pillaging of Gothland and Romeland?”
“All of this is true, yes,” Lachtna said. “But, come, we shall discuss our various deeds shortly. But, first, I have a great feast planned for you and your finest warriors. Let us eat and drink, we may discuss other matters in the morrow.”
“So,” Caoimhe said, “You wish to dazzle myself with your wealth and largess so that I might concede to be your bride. I do not begrudge you your efforts, but I warn you that others have tried in the past.” But she smiled as she said this, and it was obvious to all that there was none of her fire and passion behind those words.
At this Lachtna smiled, and it was as warm and inviting as it was false – for some men are able to mask their emotions and appear genuine and sincere all the while they plot treachery. “One can not blame a man for trying to show his best face when in the presence of a goddess, can they?”
And at this Lachtna entered into his hall, and his own personal guards followed him, while Caoihme and the Brotherhood followed behind. As they entered, a eunach strode to Caoihme and said “It is the law of our great King that none shall bear weapons within his Hall – which is known to the four corners of the world as Curia. Please, hand over your blades, so that we may know that you will keep the peace of our Lord and King.”
Immediately Domhnal an Gearr lept forward and placed the blade of his sword against the attendant’s throat, for he still suspected treachery. “You seek to dishonor my Queen by accusing her of being willing to break the peace of your King? I have spilled the blood of greater men than you for lesser insults. You shall pry my blade from my cold, dead, hands, for none of the Brotherhood shall willingly give them up!”
“Dohmnal,” Caoimhe said, “I order you to lower your blade. You dishonor me by threatening to spill the blood of a servant in a hall which we have entered as guests! We are Fianna, not common criminals to act in such a manner!”
But then Lachtna emerged to calm the growing storm. “No, it is I who should apologize,” he said. “My servant meant no disrespect, and the fault was mine alone. I would never dream of disrespecting my honored guests by disarming them, for I have heard it said that a Gael loves his sword or spear more than the offspring of his own flesh. Sadly, I was so taken by your beauty when I saw you that I neglected to tell my servants that you were to be allowed in without your arms being collected. Please, foregive my servant and lower your weapon. Should your honor need to be sated, I ask you instead to strike off my own head in his place. For a true King will always take responsibility for the mistakes of his subordinates.” [FN7]
“Yes,” Caoimhe said, “that is the way of a true of just King, indeed. Domhnal, you have won this day. Lower your weapon as I have commanded.”
Conchobhar watched the scene unfold with a growing darkness upon his brow. His plans called for the Gaels to be disarmed, and he did not know which madness then possessed his King to allow them to walk about the Curia with their swords sheathed by their sides.
Domhnall too was disquieted, for he trusted the Romans far less than he had any other foe in his many years. But, having won the concession granted by Lachtna, he could not act. Instead, he smiled – a terrible thing on his often stoic and distant face – and sheathed his own blade. “Very well,” he said, “and I thank the Lord of this Hall for respecting the honor of my Queen and her Brotherhood.”
“I thank you, brave brother of my beloved Caoimhe. Now, please, come into my Hall and prtake in the bounty that I have set out for you all,” Lachtna said.
At this the Brotherhood and the King’s men all made their way into Curia where a great banquet was laid out before them all. Many fine meats were sent around on plates, and the Gaels ate heartily, each of them agreeing that they had never before seen such a bountiful array of foods in all of their years of fighting and travel. The win was equally good, and no matter how much the Gaels drank, they glasses always found themselves refilled when a servant passed by. Soon many were beginning to sing and praise the great wealth of King Lachtna and the selfless way in which he treated his guests – for even the richest of the Gaelic Kings that has served, would always grumble and grow nervous at the insaitiable appetite of the Brotherhood.
King Lachtna, for his part, smiled and sang along to his guests’ songs with great joy. At his side sat Caoimhe and they spent the night discussing matters of politics and military affairs and trading stories of conquests and victories with one another – each one seemingly attempting to outdo the other with tales of bravery.
Only Domhnal an Gearr remained unconvinced of King Lachtna’s word. Though he drank heavily as to not arouse suspicion, he remained on his guard and refused to truth the benevolence of their host.
Conchobhar too shared Domhnal an Gearr’s great concern, but for other purposes. He finally went to his King and said, “Was it wise to allow these barbarians to continue to carry their weapons about on their person? Our entire purpose was to catch them unawares and slay them in their sleep. Can we do this when they still possess the cold steel which can end our lives?”
“Do not be so foolish, my trusted servant,” Lachtna said. “For the Gaels will drain an ocean of wine before this night is done. Never before have I seen a folk drink as they; even Thor himself would be unable to out drink as they, and he was said to have lowered the very sea with a single draught! We shall simply wait until they sleep, and then the thunders of war themselves could note wake them from their drunken stupor.”
“My King, I do not mean to question your wisdom, but I have seen these Gaels fight and can say that, when roused, a single drunken Gael is more than a match for ten of our own men. Do not dismiss the tales we have heard from Jaille and Espain, and the grea waste that they have visited upon those lands. And now we have an entire host of these demons within our walls, and they are armed!”
“Conchobhar, my trusted servant, I always value your advice. But I know war in ways that you never will. We shall vanquish our foes this night and then none shall stand in our way. Rome shall be save from all barbarians forevermore.”
It was not long after this that King Lachtna invited his own court minstrel to the Hall to play. At first the music was rousing, but slowly the song turned slower and slower, and it lulled the senses of the Brotherhood and their great Queen. The Minstrel was part Sidhe and had been left at the doorstep of a Roman woman while still an infant, and she and her husband had raised him to age. But he never forgot the origin of his birth and, like all Sidhe, he was a great musician and poet and his songs could move men to great violence or lull them into a stupor with but a few chords. Before long, the Brotherhood and their Queen were in a deep sleep.
All except Domhnall, for he himself was part Sidhe – from wense he received his peircing vision of this world and the other – and sensing what was happening, he presented to fall into a deep sleep. But this was merely a show, for his nature allowed him to be immune to the magic of the music, and he remained fully alert.
One hour passed, and then a second, and the Romans made no foul moves. King Lachtna wished to wait to make sure that no Gaels remained awake to defend themselves from his treachery. As the third hour passed, he made a motion with his left hand, and his warriors knew that the time had come to strike. They flooded into the main room of the Curia, arms ready, and made to strike at their sleeping foes.
However, it was at this moment that Domhnall an Gearr lept up from the floor and revealed himself to be alert and awake. “We have been betrayed,” he cried and drew his sword, stabbing the first Roman soldier through the face. With a savage backhand slash he decapitated another. A third was crushed to death beneath his mighty boot.
Hearing Domhnal’s cry, Caoimhe and the other Gaels sprung up from their slumber, fully aware not that the battle was upon then. The Queen let out a battle shriek and leapt from the chair upon which she slumbered and with Saol ó Bhás in hand, she brought that storied blade down upon the head of a Roman and cleaved his in twain, so that one half fell to the right and the other fell to the left. His blood sprayed forth from the wound and coated her face. And at this she laughed, “My False-King, I had thought the best entertainment of your feast had already come and gone, but now I see that you have saved the best for last. I shall paint by face in the blood of your loyal men and add your name to the list of haughty kings that I have slain by my own hand. I thank you for this!”
As Caoimhe began her slaughter, King Lachtna began to fear. Had not Conchobhar warned him of the immence violence of the Gaelic men and their abilities in battle? He called forth and five hundred men suddenly rushed into the hall and fell upon the two dozen Gaels within. Despite their prowress, this was too many for the Gaels and they began to fall back towards a corner. Soon Caoimhe herself was trapped and facing a dozen warriors alone.
No matter how many she killed, more of King Lachtna’s men arrived, and she was beginning to grow weary of the fight. “If I die tonight,” she cried out, “may my Mother know that I fought and died well, and may my Father know that I lived the life of his true son!”
But, as she weakened, Domhnall an Gearr struck the Romans from behind and clove one after another so that it seemed that he himself might turn the tide of the battle. But then, as Caoimhe watched on, a great black blade emerged from his chest. It was Croí Dubh, the black hearted blade of King Lachtna himself, formed from a metal which had fallen from the heavens themselves.
“Domhnal,” Caoimhe cried, “you who have fought by my side since I was but a child! Oh, wicked be my heart for it lead me astray so that I did not heed your council when it was given. Your blood stains my own hands red, for had I taken your words to heart, you would now live! Your death is bitter to me indeed, and now I shall pay your killers back stroke for stroke and I will not stop until all of Rome has been reduced to cider and ash!”
Then the battle spasms came upon her, and each hair on Caoimhe’s head stood on end like the pelt of a porcupine. One ye sunk deep within her skull, while the other bulged forth like the eye of Balor. Her porceline skin turned red and then black as death. And, as she let out a mighty battle roar, her mouth opened so wide that she swallowed one Roman soldier whole. Her scream shattered glass and wood, and the doors to the great hall burst forth as it from a tremendous blow. [FN8]
Seeing her rage, King Lachtna turned coward and fled from Curia, falling behind line after line of his men, whom he ordered forward with a cry of “Kill! Kill! Kill the Demon Queen before she can slay this entire city!”
The door destroyed, the Gaels flooded out into the city itself, persued by King Lachtna’s men. They were harried the whole way as the King called out his archers, but the arrows simply glanced off Caoimhe’s hide, or broke upon impact. But her warriros were not so lucky for, though they were strong and men of courage, they did not possess the battle spasms which protected their queen, and they began to fall one by one.
Their loss only enraged Caoimhe all the more and she seemed to double, then triple in size. The Romans fell upon her, but she slew some with her blade, crushed others beneath her boots, and still others she tore apart with her bare hands. The other Gaels soon fell behind their Queen to protect her, and also for her to protect them, as they made their way to the gate.
At this point the citizens of Rome had come out and, seeing their King attack Caoimhe, they let out a great shout “You Dishonor us, Great King! For you welcome a Queen to your Hall and treacherously attempt to slay her in her sleep. For shame. For shame!” And the Roman people turned upon their own soldiers and slew many, but they were soon swept away.
But their sacrifice was not in vein, for it gave Caoimhe and her remaining warriors a chance to reach the gates when they battered down with their strength and soon fled from the city and back to their own camp. Of the 24 warriors who had followed her into Rome, no more than 12 now remained. And Caoimhe blamed herself for their deaths, for many of those slaim had been brothers who she had fought with since a young girl, and their loss grieved her awfully.
As Caoimhe and her remaining warriros arrived back in their camp, a great shout rose up from the other Gaels who now witnessed their friends returning bloodied and battered bythe treachery of King Lachtna. Though Caoimhe herself wished nothing less than to immediately order her men into a full assault to take Rome, sack it and reduce it to ashes, she held her tongue for she knew that such an attack would be ill-advised.
The next morning the forces of Queen Caoimhe and the Brotherhood stood arrayed against the forces of King Lachtna who flooded out of Rome to meet their chllangers. “By my Honor,” Caoimhe said, “I shall drive you back to your strongholds and set them alight. You shall pay for the death of my brothers with your own blood. Men will tell tales of the vengeance and shall weep over the ruins of Rome, for I shall show no pity to you or your men!”
“You are a barbarian Queen who threatens the civilized world,” King Lachtna responded, “and my men shall drive you back into the devil’s sea from wense you came! Rome shall be free of the barbarians and shall reclaim her former glory. Your ancestors attacked my city, but Great Brennus fell upon a Roman sword and so to you shall meet your end upon Croí Dubh and your head shall be raised upon Curia as a warming to all those who wish to attack civilized men!”
As the warriors of both sides began to scream and shout, demanding vengeance, a singular figure dressed all in white walked between both armies. It was the Pope – who was then a man of great holiness named Sean – and he walked up to the camp of Caoimhe and demanded to speak to the Queen.
“Holy Father,” he said, “say your peace quickly, for can you not see that my armies stand ready to slay these Roman devils and wipe their accursed name from the Earth?”
“Yes,” the Pope said, “and I understand well your desire for vengeance, for King Lachtna has broken every vow of xcivilized men and attacked you most dishonorably. However, is it not true that a gies rests upon your head that you cannot turn down the request of a churchman?”
“This is so,” Caoimhe said, “though I wish you did not bring it up. For King Lachtna has slain a great many of my brothers, including Domhnal an Gearr who was gracious to me, and only the spilled blood of my foe will assuage my own guilt for his death.”
“Be that as it may,” Pope Sean said, “it is not the way of the godly to seek vengeance in such a way, and do you no consider yourself a Christian soul?”
“I do,” Caoimhe said, “have I not funded many a church in my own kingdom?”
“you have, and truly there are no benefactors of the Church better known throughout the world than you. But heed my words. Should you attack King Lachtna on this day a great many will fall. Lachtna will be one of them yes, but so to will a great numbe of your own followers. Do you wish their death?”
“Certainly not,” Caoimhe responded, “but they are warriors, and it is our way to risk death every day. Should they fall, I will mourn them, but we shall also sing songs of their great deeds, and their names shall never pass from the Earth.”
“But, what if I am able to suggest an alternative course that will assage your honor and spare their lives. Will you heed my words, as a Churchman?”
“I fear, Father, that I have no other option, for the geis states if I disobey your request I shall surely die.”
“Very well. Let me speak to King Lachtna and see if I may find a peaceful end to our current predicament.”
Then Pope Sean went to King Lachtna and said, “great King of the Romans, I come to you know as a representative of the Holy Church on Earth. Will you heed my words?”
“Speak quickly, priest,” Lachtna responded, “for my men prepare for battle and shal drive this foreign horde from our land!”
“Oh wicked King,” the Pope said, “you who have so greatly feared for your own life that you have violated the sacred bonds of guesthood. You have truly sinned in the eyes of the lord and are so blinded by your own pride that you fail to see the grave nature of your own failings.”
“Can you not see that what I do, I do for the glory of Rome,” Lachtna asked.
“I see only a petty King who reaches for greatness, but understands not the first steps upon that ladder. You should not seek battle, you should seek confession and beg God’s merc for your sins. And if you do not do so, a great calamity shall befall you!”
“Holy Father, I beg you to stop speaking in riddles and say clearly the doom that you foresee!”
“Very well, Lachnta, wicked False King of Rome, I shall do as you request. Understand this, should you fight today, you shall lose your life and Kingdom together. For God favors Caoimhe in the comining conflict. Do you understand this?”
“But,” Lachtna said, “all I have done, I have done to glorify both God and Rome.”
“And yet you understand so little of either.”
“Very well,” Lachtna said, “what do you propose?”
“You must return to Caoimhe the bodies of her fallen comrades and pay her a tribute of gold to make amends for your treacherous actions.”
“I may be able to do as you ask,” King Lachtna said.
“But that it not all! For we both know that your actions were spurred on by the treacherous Conchobhar, and that man is devil-possessed. As long as you allow him to hold to your side, he shall be a bane upon your neck, and you shall not rule in the glory of God! Instead, turn him over to the Gaels so that they may punish himself for his crimes?”
“And if I refuse, Holy Father? If I order my men to bind you in chains and throw you into the deepest of dungeons and find a man who is willing to support my reign?”
“Then you shall be cursed, my King. You shall be driven from your throne, from your land, and shall find no bed upon to rest your head, no qurter will be given to you. You shall live as an outlaw, forced to eat the bark of trees and the moss from rocks, until your very soul cries out for the mercy of death. And then it shall be granted,and it shall be your head that hangs upon Curia’s walls!”
Lachtna nodded at these words, for her sensed the truth of them. “Very well, tell Caoimhe that I shall do as you ask. She shall have the bodies of her fallen brothers, gold to pay for my crimes, as well as Conchobhar himself bound in chains.”
Then Pope Sean return to the camp of the Gaels and explained the terms that Lachtna had agreed upon. And later that day the bodies of the fallen Brothers were delivered to Caoimhe, along with three chests of gold and jewels, and Conchobhar who was bound in thick iron chains. The Brotherhood buried their dead, and even now it it said that these graves can be seen, for years later a Gaelic monk found the site and founded a monastery on that hallowed ground. And, as for Conchobhar, a great bonfire was kindled and he was thrown upon it to roast in the flames, and the Gaels dances along its edge, singing as he screams went down to hell.
And so Caoimhe and the Brotherhood returned to their ships and returned to their Kingdom. But it had been the first true defeat of her life, and a great vengeance was kindled deep in her heart and she vowed “I shall yet slay King Lachtna upon my silver blade Saol ó Bhás and see Rome reduced to ciders for their crimes. Upon this I stake my life, and my word is still good. Though we may retreat upon this day, I shall not rest until vengeance has been delivered to me!”
And with this, Caoimhe and her Brotherhood set sail for their Kingdom and home. But all that she said would eventually come to pass, and Lachtna would indeed perish upon her blade, and she would live long enough to see the Fall of Rome. But that is a tale for another day.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[FN1] Although Rome is certainly doing better in this ATL than it was in OTL – having been spared the disasters of the Gothic wars – it is certainly not doing well enough to compare with Constantinople. Like most other cities in the West, it has been steadily declining as the region follows its centuries long trend of becoming more rural. One might assume that the author – and the original story tellers – are conflating the past richness of Rome with its condition during the early 8th century. Perhaps this is simply to tell a better story, maybe its because prior glory of Rome has overridden the folk memory of what it was like during this time, or maybe the initial story tellers have other ideas entirely.
[FN2] Lachtna, King of the Romans. You’ve heard this name before, believe it or not. Though you may not have heard it in this form.
[FN3] We might judge from this a justification for the presence of Gaelic missionaries and monks in Vandaland. It would seem the Hiberno-Scot missions are a bit more widespread in this timeline. Not surprising with a richer and more powerful Gaelic world. One could also see this as an attempt to portray Caoimhe as a supporter of the Church despite her own somewhat questionable reputation in that regard to to this point. But such real world considerations have little place in folklore, so let us pass it by
[FN4] Romans didn’t really have harems. However, this seems to be a conflation with the Greek world as well as the Gaelic to an extend as well as an attempt to paint Lachtna as the villain. Which is somewhat ironic considering its been mentioned fairly openly that Caoimhe has multiple lovers/husbands, and this wasn’t uncommon in Gaelic society of the time.
[FN5] One might notice that every ruler is given the title of King or Emperor in this story. This likely stems from the story being collected long after the initial events occurred and the messy facts of what a ruler’s actual title was have long since been lost. In the defense of the story tellers, there WERE a number of Kings within the Gothic Empire of this Era. Though Sicily certainly did not have one, and the King of the Romans was a title given to the Emperor under normal conditions.
[FN6] This story reflects certain concepts of love which would not become prominent until several centuries after the life of Caoimhe and this has led many scholars to suspect it was a relatively later addition to her legends. However, it does reflect how important of a figure she becomes, not just in th Gaelic world, but throughout Europe. So much so, that she begins to figure into the folklore of a wide variety of peoples.
On a side note, these names are obviously modern Sicilian names. I apologize for the Anachronism. The legends of Caoimhe, so far, has shown an ability to give Gaelic names for characters when possible, but to also preserve non-Gaelic name forms as well. I wanted to use these for a bit of local flavor and color but wasn’t able to figure out what the Sicilian variants would be in the ATL during the 8th century.
[FN7] Anyone else getting the sense that Lachtna is pouring it on a BIT thick? On a side note, I think that the original story tellers may have somewhat misunderstood what the Curia was. In these legends, it has become conflated with the Great Hall of King Lachtna.
[FN8] One might notice that Caoimhe shares a certain ‘hulking out’ quality with her fellow Gaelic hero Cuchullian. This is not accidental, of course. One might also draw the conclusion that there is something truly monstrous about Caoimhe, and that even the Gaels who praise her are somewhat uncomfortable with certain aspects of her personality and deeds.
And so, there we have it: the adventures of Caoimhe in Rome and her first great defeat. This will have ramifications that will play out throughout the rest of the story and in the 'real world' in the ATL - though possibly for different reasons than what we've seen. As I'd said before, I really hope that you have been enjoying this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Though it started as a rather fun back road trip to the main story, its quickly becoming much more than that. The tale of Caoimhe currently rests at over 60 pages - currently I imagine her enjoying two or three more chapters before its all told - and I have ever reason to suspect that there is a chance that the finished tale might end up being a fifth of the entire length of this timeline, believe it or not!
I'd love to hear your comments of all that has transpired so far!
All Roads Lead to Rome
The Column of Thorismund II. Erected before the Rostra, in 673 AD, the Column of Thorismund II was a gift of the Emperor to the Senate of Rome. This would be the last addition made to the Roman Forum, prior to the Ruination and the Fall of Rome.
Part 5: The Disaster at Rome
Following their victory over Godas and his accursed magician Yeddas, Caoihme and her Brotherhood hoped to quickly return to their own Kingdom, for they had won great wealth during this expedition and now wished to return to their own homes and estates. However, Hilderic was so grateful for their service that he would not allow them depart without a show of his own generosity. And so, the Brotherhood found themselves entertained in feast after feast.
One night, during one such feast, there came a knock upon the doors of Hilderic’s hall. The doors opened and in strode a man dressed in the finest of clothing – the whole court gasped when they saw him, for all agreed they had never seen a man dressed in such rich garments before. Some believed that he must have come from far off Constantinople, while others openly said that they believed he could only have come from far off India to be dressed in such a way. [FN1]
The man’s name was Conchobhar and he was a messenger then in the employ of Lachtna, who was then ruling over the city of Rome as its King. [FN2]
“Hilderic, rightful King of the Vandals,” Conchobhar said, “I apologize for intruding upon this grand feast. However, I have been instructed by my master, Lachtna, the most pious and glorious King of the Romans, to come to you today and express his joy that you have returned to the throne that is rightfully yours!”
Hilderic nodded his head, “And it is my honor to receive you today as a guest, Conchobhar, servant of that most gentile of Kings, Lachtna of the Romans. Please, allow me to extend hospitality to you as a guest – sit and partake of this meal with us.”
“I would be most honored,” Conchobhar said and he and his attendants soon joined in the general festivities and were made to feel most welcome. They were served the richest of meats, the finest of wines, and many delicacies which came to Carthage from those rich and mysterious lands to the south; nothing was denied them.
At the time, Caoihme was seated, as usual, in the seat of honor next to Hilderic. She noticed that Conchobhar kept casting his eyes upon her. This was not unusual as she was a great beauty and often caught the attention of men; though many would often flee upon learning her name and deeds.
Next to Caoihme that night sat Domhnal an Gearr. Noticing the messenger and the special attention he was giving to Caoihme, Domhnal leaned over and said “I do not trust that man, nor his master. For is it not said that I have the eyes of the Lynx, that can perceive this world and the other? When my eyes alight upon him, I see only a blackened and false heart.”
But Caoimhe was taken by the man’s rich appearance and paid no heed to the warnings of her friend. She went to him and said, “I have seen your wandering eyes cast themselves upon me all night. Know this; many men whose eyes who have wandered such before, have found themselves plucked out! Tell me what it is that either you or your master want.”
“My fairest Queen,” Conchobhar said and bowed deeply, “truly I met no disrespect. You are right, that I have interest in you, though I think it is not as you suspect. I was sent here upon an errand by my master King Lachtna to search you out and deliver to you a message. However, upon arriving I myself was taken by your great beauty and the stories of your many victories and found that my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth so that I was unable to speak. I beg your forgiveness and offer a thousand pardons for my behavior.”
“You speak beautifully,” Caoimhe stated, “as if you wish your words to match the rich garments that you drape yourself in. But I have long held that a man who wishes to present himself as rich is often very poor in honor in heart, and runs the risk of losing his richness and life in the process.”
“Certainly, Conchobhar said, “you speak wisely my Queen. Though in my case, you would be quite wrong. For I was once a warrior, the same as you, and I have served the great city of Rome all my life in whatever capacity she requires of me. Once I was a fighter and now I am a speaker. My own role means little to me, what matters more is the glory and triumph of my city.”
“Truly,” Caoimhe said, “the stories are true and you Romans are a strange race indeed. However, I would be lying if I said that I was not intrigued by your words. Please, pray tell, what would your Master, the great King Lachtna, have of me?”
“My Queen, he wishes nothing less than to pledge his heart to you. He has heard of the passing of your late husband and knew the grief that must have gripped your heart, for he too has lost a wife early in his life. He sought to hold his tongue out of respect for your bereavement but when word of your astonishing victory here in Carthage reached his ears and he could contain himself no longer.”
Then Conchobhar fell upon his knees before the great Queen and said, “My Master wished me to present you with a gift of gold and precious stones and invite you to Rome so that you may meet him face to face. He wishes nothing less than to make you his wife and for you to rule Rome by his side.”
“Other man had spoken such words to me throughout the years, though few so eloquently I will admit. Know this – there is a geis upon my head that I am unable to turn down the heart of a man who truly pledges it to me. But know this too: of the many men who have come to me before, all now lay head and all but one of them fell at my own hand. Does your Master understand this?”
“He does, o Queen. Which is why he does not wish to formally propose until such a time as you have met him face to face and know him to be a true and just lord who does not seek to dishonor you in any way.”
Then he motioned to one of his attendants and they brought forth a great chest, and within it was gold and jewels of the highest quality. “Should you wish to accept his offer or not, my King wishes you to have this gift on behalf of him and the Senate and People of Rome.”
“Very well,” Caoihme said, “I will consider your offer.” But she was still a young woman, and the words of Conchobhar excited her far more than she was willing to admit. Only Dohmnal an Gearr saw this, for his sight was precise indeed and he was often able to see into the hearts of others, though he rarely spoke of what he had seen.
The next day Caoihme gathered her Brotherhood to her and said, “Last night a messenger of Lachtna, the great King of Romans came to this court with a message for me. He states that his King wishes to marry me. Now, many a man has made similar pledges and they have fallen upon my sword. However, I feel that Lachtna is true to his word and that I should entertain him. He has invited me to Rome so that we may meet face to face.”
“However, I would be loath to travel hence without my loyal Brotherhood who have slipped and shed blood by myside for so many years. Truly, I could ask for no greater companions than you all! So now, I say this: I wish that we set sail for Rome immediately. However, if any of you wish to travel back to our Kingdom I shall not stop you, for we have fought long and fought hard and I cannot ask you to tarry away from that land that you love any longer.”
At this the men all broke into a spontaneous cheer and cried “Queen Caoimhe, our sister, we would follow you to the gates of hell and beyond. Only say that word and we shall follow you to Rome.”
Only Domhnal seemed disquieted and he went to his Queen and said, “Do not trust these men, for their hearts are black. I do not know what this King Lachtna wants of you, but I suspect it is not your hand! This warning I must give you, and it would wish for me not to follow you any longer, I understand. But I could not sooner bite by tongue than allow a foe to drive a blade into the back of one of my brothers.”
“Domhnal an Gearr,” Caoimhe responded, “you have fought by my side since before I came to rule to Brotherhood. Do you not remember that you were one of the first to welcome me into our fianna after my husband Eterscel bade me join? When others ostracized me for killing their comrades, so that I thought I might have to add a few more heads to my belt, it was you who pulled me aside and made me feel welcome. I could no sooner banish you from my presence thanI could could put off my own sword hand. If I were to do so, it would weaken me greatly! And since become Queen I have always told my brothers that I valued their advice. Do not think me so petty or cruel that I would turn my back upon you now.”
“Then,” he asked, “will you reconsider?”
“No,” she stated, “I will not. For this could well strengthen our Kingdom and I have made up my mind to at least meet King Lachtna face to face and judge his character for myself.”
“Then,” Domhnal said, “I fear that we shall suffer our first great defeat and be driven back into the sea.”
“Do you wish to return to our Kingdom and there seek the arms of your wife?”
“No. I stand by my words, but I also stand by my vowes, and I have vowed to fight for you until the end of my days. I have said my peace, but you are my Queen and sister, and I shall follow where you lead.”
The next day Caoimhe and her Brotherhood departed Carthage with great fanfare. King Hilderic himself came out to the port to wish them well and the Bishop of Carthage himself came out to bless their journey. Though he was an Arian and Caoimhe Orthodox, he thankfully accepted the blessed and gave part of her gift from Lachtna to him to erect a church in honor of her late husband Eterscel. The Bishop was so moved by this gift that he promised to not interfere with any Gaelic monks that would come to Vandaland. [FN3]
However, Domhnal an Gearr’s vision was true and he was not leading his Queen astray. For King Lachtna was a false and wicked man. He had come to rule over the Romans and wanted nothing less than to spread his power throughout all the known world. Caoimhe’s victories in Carthage had proven that she was a real threat to his power, and he feared that she might come to Rome and overthrow him as she has Godas. And so, he and his advisor Conchobhar had crafted a sinister plot. They would invite Caoimhe to Rome to marry him and then fall upon her and bind her in chains. Then she would join his harem, and he would be rid of a great threat to his own rule. [FN4]
And so the fleet of the Brotherhood sailed, first reaching Sicily where they stayed for some time, being geated by the King there. There Caoimhe was asked to intervene in a case of great importance to the court in Sicily. The KIng at the time was an elderly man by the name of Giovi who had been married many times, but not yet procured a son, though he was said to have hald twelve daughters, each more beautiful than the last. The lack of a male heir brought him great shame for he feared that the crown of Sicily would fall away from his family upon his death. [FN5]
King Giovi had heard tell of a beautiful Greek Princess who then resided in the court at Constantinople. The Emperor in the East was her uncle and greatly loved his niece and could deny her nothing. Giovi had sent diplomats to Constantinople to arrange a marriage between himself and the Emperor’s niece, whose name was Aita. The Emperor saw that Giovi would be a strong ally and sought to convince his niece of the marriage, but she was obstinate and refused. Finall, in desperation, Giovi sent the girl a gift of gold and jewls along with three of his greatest poets to convince her of the sophistication and wealth of his court. She was finally convinced and said that she would marry him “though he is an old man.”
Sadly, King Giovi was unable to go and gather his to-be bride himself. Some say his health was bad and it would have been ruined by a long sea journey, while others say that he was distracted by great matters of state as the Ruination threatened to consume his realm as well as the whole of the Empire. In any case, King Giovi tasked his own nephew, Miceli to sail to Constantinople and to deliver his bride to him. Miceli was loyal to his Uncle and had long been the old man’s favorite.
Upon seeing Aita for the first time, however, Miceli fell madly in love with the girl and she with him. Their loyalty to their respective families, however, kept them apart. However, eventually their passions for one another became so great that they were unable to hold them back any longer, and they professed their love for one another. Unsure of what to do, Miceli and Aita ordered that the ship they were on should travel south and they arrived in the city of Alexandria and there were married by the Patriarch of that city themselves. King Giovi was enraged when news reached him of his nephew’s betrayal. He stated that anyone who could bring him the head of his nephew would be given a great estate and those who could also bring him his betrothed to be tried as an adulterer would be named his own heir.
Miceli and Aita lived on the run for many years, always staying one step ahead of King Giovi’s spies and merceneries. During this time, Aita gave birth to twins – a boy named Marcu and a girl named Candelora. Tired of running, wishing safety for their children, and also overcome with remorse for betraying their families, the two made their way back to Sicily to throw themselves upon the mercy of the King. There, upon arrival, they were both thrown into chains and et to stand judgment.
This trial coincided with the arrival of Caoimhe and her Brotherhood. At the time the King had a problem, as the common people of the island overwhelmingly supported the couple, for they were young and in love. He feared that any judgment against them would incite the people to rise against him, even though he had ruled justl for 40 years and protected them from many threats. At the same time, he could not set them free for it would make people whisper that he had grown old, infirm and weak.
And so, he hatched upon the scheme of asking Caoihme to stand trial over the couple. If she found them innocent, then King Giovi would be popular for showing mercy and wisdom by asking an impartial third party to judge the case. But if the couple was found guilty, then the King could honestly claim it was not he who passed judgement upon them.
The trail began with the couple being drug into the court of the King and each told their story. They explained how they had not wished to betray their families, but that God had placed a great ove between them and they could no longer stand against it than one could the tide. Aita spoke of the great love she had for her twin children and her desire that they be safe and cared for. Meanwhile, the supporters of King Giovi explained of the contract that had been created and how he was still childless and the dangers that came upon a realm when there was no heir.
In the end Caoimhe found in favor of the couple. She stated that that a woman should have the right to choose their own husband, and that a love which had been granted by God could not be broken by the powers of this world. However, she suggested a compromise. There was, at that time, a young Vandal girl who had attached herself to Caoimhe as a servant – though she came from a noble Vandal family. This girl was taken with King Giovi and felt pity for his plight. Caoimhe suggested that the King marry this girl and that, should he still have no male son, that Miceli be named his heir.
This was seen as wise by all present and soon King Gioni was married to the Vandal noble girl. However, he would never have the son he so desired, and it would be Miceli that would assume the throne of Sicily in the years to come. [FN6]
Having settled this dispute, Caoihme and the Brotherhood traveled on to Rome. They rested their currachs upon the shore and traveled up the Tiber until they reached the walls of Rome itself. There they were met with a great festival, as the people of the city turned out to greet them, for the deeds of the Brotherhood had already passed to the four corners of the Earth and all knew of their adventures.
At the gate was Conchobhar who stood before them in all of his finery. “Queen Caoimhe,” he said, “it is with great pleasure I welcome you to the city of Rome and the realm of my king Lachtna! He bids that you enter into our fair city so that you may meet him and, god willing, deign to discuss the terms of your marriage.”
But then Caoimhe, taken with the splendor of Rome though she was, remembered the words of Domhnal an Gearr. “What type of Queen could I be to enter into a city as fine as Rome without an honor guard? I shall come to your King, but I shall do so with a guard of my own. For it would not be befitting of a Queen to meet her potential husband without a display of her own wealth. How else would he know that she is serious?”
Conchobhar smiled, though there was discomfort upon his face. “Truly, you once again speak with a wisdom that if far beyond your years my Queen. Please, choose a dozen of your men to escort you into our city.”
“A dozen,” Caoimhe asked. “Do you find me to be so poor that I could only find a dozen men to be my guard? Nay, certainly I could happily bring in two hundred. But that would be unseemly, and I would hate for my future husband to believe that I wished to steal his city and crown from him. For two hundred Gaelic men are easily worth two thousand men of any other race. So, instead, I shall bring two dozen, to set his mind at ease.”
“Yes, that it very appropriate. Once again, you are right,” Conchobhar said.
So, the next day, Caoimhe arrived at the gates the city and presented herself along with two dozen of her finest warriors. And among these was Domhnal an Gearr who had proven himself so astute and loyal in the past. It was he who had spoken to her and warned caution, and she wished to keep him close and rely upon his advice.
Caoimhe and her Honor Guard passed through th gates of Rome and were met with fanfare as if they were celebrating a Triumph. The people of the city turned out to shower them either praise and flowers. Caoimhe responded in kind and threw out torrents of gold from her conquests to the crowd, and they responded with love and adoration. Soon the entire crowd was chanting and the name Caoimhe was on everyone’s lips.
At this, Conchobhar began to fear, for if Caoimhe turned the people of Rome against his King than their plan would surely fail and it was likely that they would lose their lives as well.
Finally, they came to the Lachtna’s palace and were escorted inside where a great feast was being held in their honor. Lachtna himself came out to greet them, and he was a tall an of fair complexion, blond hair, and had the body of a warrior. There were those that whispered he was Caesar come again in the flesh. Caoimhe found herself smitten, her heart yearned upon seeing such a man, but reminded herself to take the advice of her advisors.
“My Queen,” Lachtna said, throwing his hands wide, “you see now that the people of Rome love you.”
“Yes,” she said, “and I love them as well, for they are a fair and good people.”
“Well then,” he said, “we are well met. For they love me as well!” And at this he threw handful after handful of gold into the crowd and they roared with adoration. King Lachtna was trying to win back the loyalty of the crowd, for he feared that Caoimhe had won them over with her wealth and good nature.
“It seems that you have certainly bought the loyalty of these good people,” Caoimhe said, “for your coffers are deep indeed.”
“That they are, my Queen. But my coffers are shallowed compared to the depth of love my heart holds for you. For you are a figure of beauty and strength indeed – did you not plunder along the coast for years, sending so many fleeing at the mention of your name? Did you not conquer a kingdom for yourself, moved out of pity for the inhabitants of a benighted and overlooked land? Did you not liberate Carthage from the hands of an unworthy and untrue king? Truly, even the Amazons of old never did produce a woman of your beauty, fame or talents.”
“You flatter me,” my King. “For I have heard tales of your deeds as well and, though they are not as striking as my own, they are still those of a brave and capable man. For I have heard it tell that it was you who rode with Theodoric II when he conquered the Franks, and it was you who saved his life when the Saxons fell upon his host. All of his personal guard fell but you, and when the battle fog had lifted, you stood atop a mountain of heathen dead like a conquering hero of old. And was it not you who slew the usurper Gainas the Reaver by your own hand and ended his pillaging of Gothland and Romeland?”
“All of this is true, yes,” Lachtna said. “But, come, we shall discuss our various deeds shortly. But, first, I have a great feast planned for you and your finest warriors. Let us eat and drink, we may discuss other matters in the morrow.”
“So,” Caoimhe said, “You wish to dazzle myself with your wealth and largess so that I might concede to be your bride. I do not begrudge you your efforts, but I warn you that others have tried in the past.” But she smiled as she said this, and it was obvious to all that there was none of her fire and passion behind those words.
At this Lachtna smiled, and it was as warm and inviting as it was false – for some men are able to mask their emotions and appear genuine and sincere all the while they plot treachery. “One can not blame a man for trying to show his best face when in the presence of a goddess, can they?”
And at this Lachtna entered into his hall, and his own personal guards followed him, while Caoihme and the Brotherhood followed behind. As they entered, a eunach strode to Caoihme and said “It is the law of our great King that none shall bear weapons within his Hall – which is known to the four corners of the world as Curia. Please, hand over your blades, so that we may know that you will keep the peace of our Lord and King.”
Immediately Domhnal an Gearr lept forward and placed the blade of his sword against the attendant’s throat, for he still suspected treachery. “You seek to dishonor my Queen by accusing her of being willing to break the peace of your King? I have spilled the blood of greater men than you for lesser insults. You shall pry my blade from my cold, dead, hands, for none of the Brotherhood shall willingly give them up!”
“Dohmnal,” Caoimhe said, “I order you to lower your blade. You dishonor me by threatening to spill the blood of a servant in a hall which we have entered as guests! We are Fianna, not common criminals to act in such a manner!”
But then Lachtna emerged to calm the growing storm. “No, it is I who should apologize,” he said. “My servant meant no disrespect, and the fault was mine alone. I would never dream of disrespecting my honored guests by disarming them, for I have heard it said that a Gael loves his sword or spear more than the offspring of his own flesh. Sadly, I was so taken by your beauty when I saw you that I neglected to tell my servants that you were to be allowed in without your arms being collected. Please, foregive my servant and lower your weapon. Should your honor need to be sated, I ask you instead to strike off my own head in his place. For a true King will always take responsibility for the mistakes of his subordinates.” [FN7]
“Yes,” Caoimhe said, “that is the way of a true of just King, indeed. Domhnal, you have won this day. Lower your weapon as I have commanded.”
Conchobhar watched the scene unfold with a growing darkness upon his brow. His plans called for the Gaels to be disarmed, and he did not know which madness then possessed his King to allow them to walk about the Curia with their swords sheathed by their sides.
Domhnall too was disquieted, for he trusted the Romans far less than he had any other foe in his many years. But, having won the concession granted by Lachtna, he could not act. Instead, he smiled – a terrible thing on his often stoic and distant face – and sheathed his own blade. “Very well,” he said, “and I thank the Lord of this Hall for respecting the honor of my Queen and her Brotherhood.”
“I thank you, brave brother of my beloved Caoimhe. Now, please, come into my Hall and prtake in the bounty that I have set out for you all,” Lachtna said.
At this the Brotherhood and the King’s men all made their way into Curia where a great banquet was laid out before them all. Many fine meats were sent around on plates, and the Gaels ate heartily, each of them agreeing that they had never before seen such a bountiful array of foods in all of their years of fighting and travel. The win was equally good, and no matter how much the Gaels drank, they glasses always found themselves refilled when a servant passed by. Soon many were beginning to sing and praise the great wealth of King Lachtna and the selfless way in which he treated his guests – for even the richest of the Gaelic Kings that has served, would always grumble and grow nervous at the insaitiable appetite of the Brotherhood.
King Lachtna, for his part, smiled and sang along to his guests’ songs with great joy. At his side sat Caoimhe and they spent the night discussing matters of politics and military affairs and trading stories of conquests and victories with one another – each one seemingly attempting to outdo the other with tales of bravery.
Only Domhnal an Gearr remained unconvinced of King Lachtna’s word. Though he drank heavily as to not arouse suspicion, he remained on his guard and refused to truth the benevolence of their host.
Conchobhar too shared Domhnal an Gearr’s great concern, but for other purposes. He finally went to his King and said, “Was it wise to allow these barbarians to continue to carry their weapons about on their person? Our entire purpose was to catch them unawares and slay them in their sleep. Can we do this when they still possess the cold steel which can end our lives?”
“Do not be so foolish, my trusted servant,” Lachtna said. “For the Gaels will drain an ocean of wine before this night is done. Never before have I seen a folk drink as they; even Thor himself would be unable to out drink as they, and he was said to have lowered the very sea with a single draught! We shall simply wait until they sleep, and then the thunders of war themselves could note wake them from their drunken stupor.”
“My King, I do not mean to question your wisdom, but I have seen these Gaels fight and can say that, when roused, a single drunken Gael is more than a match for ten of our own men. Do not dismiss the tales we have heard from Jaille and Espain, and the grea waste that they have visited upon those lands. And now we have an entire host of these demons within our walls, and they are armed!”
“Conchobhar, my trusted servant, I always value your advice. But I know war in ways that you never will. We shall vanquish our foes this night and then none shall stand in our way. Rome shall be save from all barbarians forevermore.”
It was not long after this that King Lachtna invited his own court minstrel to the Hall to play. At first the music was rousing, but slowly the song turned slower and slower, and it lulled the senses of the Brotherhood and their great Queen. The Minstrel was part Sidhe and had been left at the doorstep of a Roman woman while still an infant, and she and her husband had raised him to age. But he never forgot the origin of his birth and, like all Sidhe, he was a great musician and poet and his songs could move men to great violence or lull them into a stupor with but a few chords. Before long, the Brotherhood and their Queen were in a deep sleep.
All except Domhnall, for he himself was part Sidhe – from wense he received his peircing vision of this world and the other – and sensing what was happening, he presented to fall into a deep sleep. But this was merely a show, for his nature allowed him to be immune to the magic of the music, and he remained fully alert.
One hour passed, and then a second, and the Romans made no foul moves. King Lachtna wished to wait to make sure that no Gaels remained awake to defend themselves from his treachery. As the third hour passed, he made a motion with his left hand, and his warriors knew that the time had come to strike. They flooded into the main room of the Curia, arms ready, and made to strike at their sleeping foes.
However, it was at this moment that Domhnall an Gearr lept up from the floor and revealed himself to be alert and awake. “We have been betrayed,” he cried and drew his sword, stabbing the first Roman soldier through the face. With a savage backhand slash he decapitated another. A third was crushed to death beneath his mighty boot.
Hearing Domhnal’s cry, Caoimhe and the other Gaels sprung up from their slumber, fully aware not that the battle was upon then. The Queen let out a battle shriek and leapt from the chair upon which she slumbered and with Saol ó Bhás in hand, she brought that storied blade down upon the head of a Roman and cleaved his in twain, so that one half fell to the right and the other fell to the left. His blood sprayed forth from the wound and coated her face. And at this she laughed, “My False-King, I had thought the best entertainment of your feast had already come and gone, but now I see that you have saved the best for last. I shall paint by face in the blood of your loyal men and add your name to the list of haughty kings that I have slain by my own hand. I thank you for this!”
As Caoimhe began her slaughter, King Lachtna began to fear. Had not Conchobhar warned him of the immence violence of the Gaelic men and their abilities in battle? He called forth and five hundred men suddenly rushed into the hall and fell upon the two dozen Gaels within. Despite their prowress, this was too many for the Gaels and they began to fall back towards a corner. Soon Caoimhe herself was trapped and facing a dozen warriors alone.
No matter how many she killed, more of King Lachtna’s men arrived, and she was beginning to grow weary of the fight. “If I die tonight,” she cried out, “may my Mother know that I fought and died well, and may my Father know that I lived the life of his true son!”
But, as she weakened, Domhnall an Gearr struck the Romans from behind and clove one after another so that it seemed that he himself might turn the tide of the battle. But then, as Caoimhe watched on, a great black blade emerged from his chest. It was Croí Dubh, the black hearted blade of King Lachtna himself, formed from a metal which had fallen from the heavens themselves.
“Domhnal,” Caoimhe cried, “you who have fought by my side since I was but a child! Oh, wicked be my heart for it lead me astray so that I did not heed your council when it was given. Your blood stains my own hands red, for had I taken your words to heart, you would now live! Your death is bitter to me indeed, and now I shall pay your killers back stroke for stroke and I will not stop until all of Rome has been reduced to cider and ash!”
Then the battle spasms came upon her, and each hair on Caoimhe’s head stood on end like the pelt of a porcupine. One ye sunk deep within her skull, while the other bulged forth like the eye of Balor. Her porceline skin turned red and then black as death. And, as she let out a mighty battle roar, her mouth opened so wide that she swallowed one Roman soldier whole. Her scream shattered glass and wood, and the doors to the great hall burst forth as it from a tremendous blow. [FN8]
Seeing her rage, King Lachtna turned coward and fled from Curia, falling behind line after line of his men, whom he ordered forward with a cry of “Kill! Kill! Kill the Demon Queen before she can slay this entire city!”
The door destroyed, the Gaels flooded out into the city itself, persued by King Lachtna’s men. They were harried the whole way as the King called out his archers, but the arrows simply glanced off Caoimhe’s hide, or broke upon impact. But her warriros were not so lucky for, though they were strong and men of courage, they did not possess the battle spasms which protected their queen, and they began to fall one by one.
Their loss only enraged Caoimhe all the more and she seemed to double, then triple in size. The Romans fell upon her, but she slew some with her blade, crushed others beneath her boots, and still others she tore apart with her bare hands. The other Gaels soon fell behind their Queen to protect her, and also for her to protect them, as they made their way to the gate.
At this point the citizens of Rome had come out and, seeing their King attack Caoimhe, they let out a great shout “You Dishonor us, Great King! For you welcome a Queen to your Hall and treacherously attempt to slay her in her sleep. For shame. For shame!” And the Roman people turned upon their own soldiers and slew many, but they were soon swept away.
But their sacrifice was not in vein, for it gave Caoimhe and her remaining warriors a chance to reach the gates when they battered down with their strength and soon fled from the city and back to their own camp. Of the 24 warriors who had followed her into Rome, no more than 12 now remained. And Caoimhe blamed herself for their deaths, for many of those slaim had been brothers who she had fought with since a young girl, and their loss grieved her awfully.
As Caoimhe and her remaining warriros arrived back in their camp, a great shout rose up from the other Gaels who now witnessed their friends returning bloodied and battered bythe treachery of King Lachtna. Though Caoimhe herself wished nothing less than to immediately order her men into a full assault to take Rome, sack it and reduce it to ashes, she held her tongue for she knew that such an attack would be ill-advised.
The next morning the forces of Queen Caoimhe and the Brotherhood stood arrayed against the forces of King Lachtna who flooded out of Rome to meet their chllangers. “By my Honor,” Caoimhe said, “I shall drive you back to your strongholds and set them alight. You shall pay for the death of my brothers with your own blood. Men will tell tales of the vengeance and shall weep over the ruins of Rome, for I shall show no pity to you or your men!”
“You are a barbarian Queen who threatens the civilized world,” King Lachtna responded, “and my men shall drive you back into the devil’s sea from wense you came! Rome shall be free of the barbarians and shall reclaim her former glory. Your ancestors attacked my city, but Great Brennus fell upon a Roman sword and so to you shall meet your end upon Croí Dubh and your head shall be raised upon Curia as a warming to all those who wish to attack civilized men!”
As the warriors of both sides began to scream and shout, demanding vengeance, a singular figure dressed all in white walked between both armies. It was the Pope – who was then a man of great holiness named Sean – and he walked up to the camp of Caoimhe and demanded to speak to the Queen.
“Holy Father,” he said, “say your peace quickly, for can you not see that my armies stand ready to slay these Roman devils and wipe their accursed name from the Earth?”
“Yes,” the Pope said, “and I understand well your desire for vengeance, for King Lachtna has broken every vow of xcivilized men and attacked you most dishonorably. However, is it not true that a gies rests upon your head that you cannot turn down the request of a churchman?”
“This is so,” Caoimhe said, “though I wish you did not bring it up. For King Lachtna has slain a great many of my brothers, including Domhnal an Gearr who was gracious to me, and only the spilled blood of my foe will assuage my own guilt for his death.”
“Be that as it may,” Pope Sean said, “it is not the way of the godly to seek vengeance in such a way, and do you no consider yourself a Christian soul?”
“I do,” Caoimhe said, “have I not funded many a church in my own kingdom?”
“you have, and truly there are no benefactors of the Church better known throughout the world than you. But heed my words. Should you attack King Lachtna on this day a great many will fall. Lachtna will be one of them yes, but so to will a great numbe of your own followers. Do you wish their death?”
“Certainly not,” Caoimhe responded, “but they are warriors, and it is our way to risk death every day. Should they fall, I will mourn them, but we shall also sing songs of their great deeds, and their names shall never pass from the Earth.”
“But, what if I am able to suggest an alternative course that will assage your honor and spare their lives. Will you heed my words, as a Churchman?”
“I fear, Father, that I have no other option, for the geis states if I disobey your request I shall surely die.”
“Very well. Let me speak to King Lachtna and see if I may find a peaceful end to our current predicament.”
Then Pope Sean went to King Lachtna and said, “great King of the Romans, I come to you know as a representative of the Holy Church on Earth. Will you heed my words?”
“Speak quickly, priest,” Lachtna responded, “for my men prepare for battle and shal drive this foreign horde from our land!”
“Oh wicked King,” the Pope said, “you who have so greatly feared for your own life that you have violated the sacred bonds of guesthood. You have truly sinned in the eyes of the lord and are so blinded by your own pride that you fail to see the grave nature of your own failings.”
“Can you not see that what I do, I do for the glory of Rome,” Lachtna asked.
“I see only a petty King who reaches for greatness, but understands not the first steps upon that ladder. You should not seek battle, you should seek confession and beg God’s merc for your sins. And if you do not do so, a great calamity shall befall you!”
“Holy Father, I beg you to stop speaking in riddles and say clearly the doom that you foresee!”
“Very well, Lachnta, wicked False King of Rome, I shall do as you request. Understand this, should you fight today, you shall lose your life and Kingdom together. For God favors Caoimhe in the comining conflict. Do you understand this?”
“But,” Lachtna said, “all I have done, I have done to glorify both God and Rome.”
“And yet you understand so little of either.”
“Very well,” Lachtna said, “what do you propose?”
“You must return to Caoimhe the bodies of her fallen comrades and pay her a tribute of gold to make amends for your treacherous actions.”
“I may be able to do as you ask,” King Lachtna said.
“But that it not all! For we both know that your actions were spurred on by the treacherous Conchobhar, and that man is devil-possessed. As long as you allow him to hold to your side, he shall be a bane upon your neck, and you shall not rule in the glory of God! Instead, turn him over to the Gaels so that they may punish himself for his crimes?”
“And if I refuse, Holy Father? If I order my men to bind you in chains and throw you into the deepest of dungeons and find a man who is willing to support my reign?”
“Then you shall be cursed, my King. You shall be driven from your throne, from your land, and shall find no bed upon to rest your head, no qurter will be given to you. You shall live as an outlaw, forced to eat the bark of trees and the moss from rocks, until your very soul cries out for the mercy of death. And then it shall be granted,and it shall be your head that hangs upon Curia’s walls!”
Lachtna nodded at these words, for her sensed the truth of them. “Very well, tell Caoimhe that I shall do as you ask. She shall have the bodies of her fallen brothers, gold to pay for my crimes, as well as Conchobhar himself bound in chains.”
Then Pope Sean return to the camp of the Gaels and explained the terms that Lachtna had agreed upon. And later that day the bodies of the fallen Brothers were delivered to Caoimhe, along with three chests of gold and jewels, and Conchobhar who was bound in thick iron chains. The Brotherhood buried their dead, and even now it it said that these graves can be seen, for years later a Gaelic monk found the site and founded a monastery on that hallowed ground. And, as for Conchobhar, a great bonfire was kindled and he was thrown upon it to roast in the flames, and the Gaels dances along its edge, singing as he screams went down to hell.
And so Caoimhe and the Brotherhood returned to their ships and returned to their Kingdom. But it had been the first true defeat of her life, and a great vengeance was kindled deep in her heart and she vowed “I shall yet slay King Lachtna upon my silver blade Saol ó Bhás and see Rome reduced to ciders for their crimes. Upon this I stake my life, and my word is still good. Though we may retreat upon this day, I shall not rest until vengeance has been delivered to me!”
And with this, Caoimhe and her Brotherhood set sail for their Kingdom and home. But all that she said would eventually come to pass, and Lachtna would indeed perish upon her blade, and she would live long enough to see the Fall of Rome. But that is a tale for another day.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[FN1] Although Rome is certainly doing better in this ATL than it was in OTL – having been spared the disasters of the Gothic wars – it is certainly not doing well enough to compare with Constantinople. Like most other cities in the West, it has been steadily declining as the region follows its centuries long trend of becoming more rural. One might assume that the author – and the original story tellers – are conflating the past richness of Rome with its condition during the early 8th century. Perhaps this is simply to tell a better story, maybe its because prior glory of Rome has overridden the folk memory of what it was like during this time, or maybe the initial story tellers have other ideas entirely.
[FN2] Lachtna, King of the Romans. You’ve heard this name before, believe it or not. Though you may not have heard it in this form.
[FN3] We might judge from this a justification for the presence of Gaelic missionaries and monks in Vandaland. It would seem the Hiberno-Scot missions are a bit more widespread in this timeline. Not surprising with a richer and more powerful Gaelic world. One could also see this as an attempt to portray Caoimhe as a supporter of the Church despite her own somewhat questionable reputation in that regard to to this point. But such real world considerations have little place in folklore, so let us pass it by
[FN4] Romans didn’t really have harems. However, this seems to be a conflation with the Greek world as well as the Gaelic to an extend as well as an attempt to paint Lachtna as the villain. Which is somewhat ironic considering its been mentioned fairly openly that Caoimhe has multiple lovers/husbands, and this wasn’t uncommon in Gaelic society of the time.
[FN5] One might notice that every ruler is given the title of King or Emperor in this story. This likely stems from the story being collected long after the initial events occurred and the messy facts of what a ruler’s actual title was have long since been lost. In the defense of the story tellers, there WERE a number of Kings within the Gothic Empire of this Era. Though Sicily certainly did not have one, and the King of the Romans was a title given to the Emperor under normal conditions.
[FN6] This story reflects certain concepts of love which would not become prominent until several centuries after the life of Caoimhe and this has led many scholars to suspect it was a relatively later addition to her legends. However, it does reflect how important of a figure she becomes, not just in th Gaelic world, but throughout Europe. So much so, that she begins to figure into the folklore of a wide variety of peoples.
On a side note, these names are obviously modern Sicilian names. I apologize for the Anachronism. The legends of Caoimhe, so far, has shown an ability to give Gaelic names for characters when possible, but to also preserve non-Gaelic name forms as well. I wanted to use these for a bit of local flavor and color but wasn’t able to figure out what the Sicilian variants would be in the ATL during the 8th century.
[FN7] Anyone else getting the sense that Lachtna is pouring it on a BIT thick? On a side note, I think that the original story tellers may have somewhat misunderstood what the Curia was. In these legends, it has become conflated with the Great Hall of King Lachtna.
[FN8] One might notice that Caoimhe shares a certain ‘hulking out’ quality with her fellow Gaelic hero Cuchullian. This is not accidental, of course. One might also draw the conclusion that there is something truly monstrous about Caoimhe, and that even the Gaels who praise her are somewhat uncomfortable with certain aspects of her personality and deeds.
And so, there we have it: the adventures of Caoimhe in Rome and her first great defeat. This will have ramifications that will play out throughout the rest of the story and in the 'real world' in the ATL - though possibly for different reasons than what we've seen. As I'd said before, I really hope that you have been enjoying this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Though it started as a rather fun back road trip to the main story, its quickly becoming much more than that. The tale of Caoimhe currently rests at over 60 pages - currently I imagine her enjoying two or three more chapters before its all told - and I have ever reason to suspect that there is a chance that the finished tale might end up being a fifth of the entire length of this timeline, believe it or not!
I'd love to hear your comments of all that has transpired so far!
Oh my God, I totally think that you're right about that!
After giving it some thought; if anyone wanted to WRITE a ballad, I'd be more than happy to read it/hear it
I've always been pretty open to readers submitting things for the purpose of linguistics and etymology, but that doesn't have to be the extent of it. Should anyone want to craft ballads/songs/poems that fit within this timeline, I would be more than happy to have them posted here and maybe work them into the chapters
Thank you for your comments! I'm always happy to hear from someone who appreciates my work, so it was great to hear that you have been enjoying it so far. (especially after what has been a rather exhausting week!)
Now, as for an estimate ... that's a really good question, actually! Just doing a quick estimate based upon the population of the region which will constitute Gotland in the present of the ATL, it would be about 47 million. However (and this is really tentative), based on some projected different population and economic growth, as well as the events of the Great War, I'd say maybe 55-60 million would be a good estimate. However, its important to remember that this population is the for the Gothic state and does not reflect the population of ethnic Goths in the world of the ATL. Gotland will contain regions - such as Aquitaine - which are parts of the state but who have different ethnic identities.
However, I want to stress, this is a really rough estimate!
Chapter 74 The Breaking of the First Geis (Part 7 of the Caoimhe Cycle)
Chapter 74
The Breaking of the First Geis
17th Century Depiction of Bishop Honorius of the Caoimhe legends
Part 6: The Bishop’s Rebellion
Following their retreat from Rome, Caoimhe’s Brotherhood returned to their kingdom carrying with them much of the loot which they had gained from their adventures in the lands of the Vandals. This loot, Caoimhe distributed amongst her followers as had long been the custom of the Brotherhood. But it was not just gold and jewels which her followers coveted, but also land, and this too they received. Many of the Gaelic nobles who had lent their sword arm to the struggles of the Queen were granted large estates throughout the kingdom. So great were the gift which Caoimhe gave to her followers, that she soon gained the title An Banríon Fiach – the Generous Queen.
Having given much of her own wealth away to her men, Caoimhe then turned her attention back towards the governing of her realm. The land had still not recovered from the ravishing of Igiber the Berber and many of the fields still lay fallow, while other pastures went untended or empty of cattle. With little law, and less food, many of the people of Baetica began to prey upon their neighbors and the highways became unsafe to travel for all but the best armed and most bold of her subjects.
These conditions offended Caoimhe, for she saw it as her duty to bring security, justice and peace to her Kingdom. Therefore, she built a grand palace south of Esphailleas upon the River Baetis to protect the city, and this fortress was known as Cashel Beanna – the Crow’s Fort. It was a great round fortress of stone and there Caoimhe held court and it was from there that she ordered her Fianna Brothers to travel trhoughout the countryside and bring justice where ever they saw villany, to restore peace wherever they found war. This they did, and a great many tales are told of their many adventures throughout the land. Their efforts did not go unnoticed for the people of the realm, who came to see the Brotherhood as their dear protectors, and the love of the people for their Queen increased daily. So too did the support of the Church, for Bishop Seamus – who had once invited Caoimhe to take up the protection of the land – came to be a closer friend and advisor in the royal court of Esphailleas and acted as her regent during her voyages abroad. He wondered at the energy of these foreign Gaels and their dedication to justice, though he was also equally surprised by their ways; turning a blind-eye to Caoimhe’s numerous husbands and the children that were the product of her embrace with these men. [FN1]
Not all within Baetica were happy, however. Many clergy were disgusted by the Gaels who now ruled over the land, took umbrage at the strange customs of that race, and were incensed at the behavior of their Queen who often donned armor and sword, fighting, dressing and acting as if she were a man. Also resentful were the native nobles of the realm, for they saw their traditional powers and rights slowly being eclipsed by the new comers.
For her part, Caoimhe was dismissive of both clergy and nobles. Of the clergy, she found their ways as equally foreign and mysterious as they saw hers and felt they resented her authority and power. As for the nobles, she was often heard to say that the nobles had been unable to protect their people against the Berbers and “Any man who cannot protect those in his care, is truly no man at all.”
Whatever tensions brewed beneath the surface, these years were remembered as ones of peace and prosperity for the generations to come. The Peace of Caoimhe fell over the lands and those who exploited or harmed the innocent were swiftly punished for their misdeeds. Each summer, Caoimhe and the Brotherhood took to their ships to raid and trade along the coasts of neighboring lands, bringing back great wealth and tales of adventure to their lands and the name Caoimhe Aon Féasóg was feared and respected throughout all the kingdoms of Europe and beyond. With each successful voyage, more and more Gaels came to the court of Caoimhe to take up service in the ranks of the Queen’s men, for all wished to become an honored member of her Brotherhood. Esphailleas soon became known as the capitol of a rich and vibrant kingdom, as well as a city of wealth, culture and beayty, matched only by Constantinople to the East. And the host of Cathair Beanna was respected and feared by all. [FN2]
And yet, peace cannot last forever – even in a land ruled by a gifted and strong Queen. During the tenth summer of Caoimhe’s return from Rome, Bishop Seamus grew weak and sick. The Queen was distraught at this, for she had come to rely heavily upon his council as well as see him as a true friend. She sent for the best doctors that could be found, but to no avail – it soon became evident that no one or thing could cure the illness that then plagued bishop Seamus.
Knowing the end was near, the Bishop sent for Caoimhe and many of her trusted men. They found him laying upon a bed of white linens, a look of serenity on his once troubled brow. As they came closer, he reached up and grasped Caoimhe’s hand. “Do not grieve,” he said, “for it is the blessing of all men that we should tarry upon his world for but a short time and then return home to our Father above.”
At this, Caoimhe bowed her head and wept silently.
“When I first came to you, I offered you the rule of this land if you could drive out the demonic hordes of Igiber and his Berbers. This you did. And in the years since, you have brought peace to my beloved home. Though I cannot know the will of God, I believe that he sent you here with a purpose, and that you have fulfilled it honorably every day since. Truly, I have come to see you as a daughter, my dear Queen, and I have always been proud to serve you in any way I can.”
“Please, Seamus,” Caoimhe said, “do not leave us. I have already been forced to flee the land of one Father and, if you speak true and consider me to be your daughter, I ask you not to abandon me at this time.” [FN3]
“That can’t be helped now, my daughter,” Seamus said. “But, before I go, I must tell you of a dream which has troubles me these past nights. I saw a great murder of crows blackening the sky. But then, a great wind descends upon them from below and scatters their numbers. Even the Great Crow which led the murder was forced to the ground where she hid beneath the branches of a bush, nursing her broken wings. But then a miracle occurred, for a great rain fell from above, and when the water touched her wounds, they were healed, and the Great Crow took to the sky again. With a mighty caw she called her flock back to her side and there they multiplied once again until the entire sky grew black as night.”
“What does this dream mean,” Caoimhe asked?
“That I do not know. But I believe it refers to you and your Brotherhood. Be careful once I am gone, for I fear that a great storm is brewing, which could wipe away all that you have built. You must remain strong like the Great Crow in my dreams and call all your followers back to your side. For it is only together that you may weather these winds.”
And, having then spoken, his grip of Caoimhe’s hand weakened, and that wise bishop fell back upon his bed, and his soul fled his body.
At this, Caoimhe let out a great wail, for it then seemed to her that all of the men she loved most in her life were destined to die and leave her. She became inconsolable and fled back to Cathair Beanna where she refused to be seen for three days and three nights. When she reemerged, she was dressed in the black of mouring, and would remain in such a state for months to come. And during this time, the office of Bishop of Esphailleas remained vacant, for the Queen refused to nominate any successor for the saintly Seamus.
Now, at this time, there then lived in Esphailleas a man by the name of Honorius. He was a member of the clergy, as well as a man of wealth and breeding, for he came from one of the great noble families of Baetica whose estates had been defiled by the Berbers and which were then stripped from them and given to the Gaels. It was said that the lord of the manor had fled the oncoming Berbers with his family and moved to Ravenna. He returned only after he felt that the land had been pacified but found Gaelic lords now presiding over his estates, who claimed they had thought the lands abandoned. Though he was given payment for his lands, this perceived insult gnawed at the nobleman’s heart and he passed his grievance on to his entire family. And so, a hatred was kindled in Honorius’ heart towards the Gaelic people and their Queen Caoimhe.
But Honorius was also an amibitious man and, seeing that the seat of the bishop remained open and the Queen refused to appoint a successor, he began to speak openly. “Is it right that we, the people of Esphailleas should be without a Bishop during these trying times? Certainly, Bishop Seamus was a saintly man and his memory should forever be tended, but he would not want his flock to left shepardless while wolves prowl our woods.”
At this, the people grew excited and they marched upon Cathair Beanna and there demanded that she appoint a bishop to rule over them. Caoimhe came out to meet them, dressed all in the black of mourning and asked what her subjects desired.
“A bishop, a bishop,” they cried out.
“But your previous bishop, Seamus, who was like a father to us all, is not yet cold in his grave. Would you dishonor his memory by demanding a replacement so soon,” she asked.
“We demand a bishop,” the crowed replied, “for we are but lost sheep without the guidance of one. Do you leave us leaderless, so that harm may come upon we, your loyal subjects?”
“Of course not,” Caoimhe said, “for I love you all, have spilled much blood to protect you and keep you safe, and was it not my Brotherhood which returned peace upon the land? Very well, if you wish a bishop, you shall have one. I know of a man named Colm – a great and holy man who even now resides in the hills outside of our city. I shall call for him immediately and name him your Bishop if you would like.”
Now, with these words, Honorius felt much fear, for he knew that Colm was a pious and holy man who was much loved within the city of Esphailleas. He ordered one of his men to begin a chant, and this chant was “We Want Honorius! For he is a native of these lands and we know him better than we do a foreigner!”
Soon others in the crowd took up the chant and it seemed as if the whole of Esphailleas echoed with cries of his name.
“Very well,” Caoimhe said, “if you desire Honorius, then you shall have them. For I love my people and shall abide by their decisions.”
And with that, Honorius stepped forward and received his vestments and was named as Bishop of Esphailleas. But, though he was dressed in robes of white, his heart was black with hatred for the Gaels. He wished nothing less than to drive them from the lands of Baetica and restore his family to the privilege and estates they had once known. In this he had many allies alongst the native nobles of the Kingdom, for they too found themselves forever in the shadow of their Gaelic allies and thirsted for revenge.
One day Honorius went to Caoimhe and said, “I know it is said that you have a geis placed upon you that you are unable to turn down the request of a churchman.”
“Yes,” Caoimhe said, “this is true and well known. Tell me, what is it that you wish of me.”
“I wish for you to leave this land of Baetica. I request that you throw down the cown which you have sullied by placing it upon your head, abdicate your throne, and set sail for the lands wence you came. I wish that my beloved homeland be free of you devils for now and evermore! You, for you fight like a man and whore yourself to anyone who throws you a coin, are unfit to rule over Christian men and women.”
Caoimhe frowned at this, as her face grew red in anger, “You know that this shall never be. I shall never forsake my vow to keep the people of this land safe, nor shall I ever remove the crown, which was promised to me, from my own head.”
‘But your geis states that if you do not abide the will of a Churchman than you shall surely die.”
“This is true,” Caoimhe said, “but is there a man or woman in this entire world who will not die? I openly accept any death that the Lord wishes for me but I shall not flee from this land that I love, like a coward. For the purple is as good of a color for a royal robe as it is a burial shroud!”
“Then, I fear,” Bishop Honorius said, “that we shall be forced to drive you from this land and step your devilry once and for all.’
“And I fear that we when we meet in battle, my sword shall be warmed in your life blood, false-bishop. Greater men than you have sought to bend me to their will and all have failed.” And, as she said these words, she stood up, and already her battle spasms were coming upon for, for her hair had begun to jut forth from her scalp and her face went red with rage and then black.
Seeing the terrible transformation come upon the Queen, Bishop Honorius fled from her sight, fearing that she would end his life before the war had even begun. Knowing that Caoimhe had many friends amongst the common people of Esphailleas, he did not stop his running until he had passed over the hills outside the city and made his way towards his allies in the countryside. There he, along with many of the Roman nobles of the land, raised a great host and began to harass those loyal to Caoimhe and the Brotherhood.
At first, Caoimhe did not take the threat of Bishop Honorius seriously, for had he not fled from her very sight? And her contempt for the native nobles of the land were well known. Furthermore, she knew that her warriors were the strongest in all the known world, and that she and her men were beloved by the common people of the land. Certainly, she felt, Honorius could never pose a true threat to her Kingdom.
But this over confidence would lead to much suffering. For Honorius and his men fought as small bands, harassing the loyal towns and estates of the land, and then melting back into the countryside before any response could root them out. And with each victory, he became bolder and began to draw more men to his banner. Among these were a great many soldiers who came to serve under him from the realms of Caoimhe’s many enemies: Berbers, Vandals, and even Romans loyal to King Lachtna of Rome flocked to Bishop Honorius’ side, and soon he was able to field a great and mighty army.
Caoimhe then began to appreciate the threat to her throne, but out of either over confidence or the deep sadness which still plagued her, she refused to take the field of battle herself. Instead, she dispatched three of her stoutest warriors and honored members of the brotherhood to destroy Honorius’ forces once and for all. These were Aodh an Dearg – a great man who was said to grow so hot in battle that men would burst into flame when they touched him – Conn Lann Ghrá – he of the mightly broadsword that he strike a boulder in half with but one swing – and Ruadhán Mac Fearmór – who was said to have been smaller than Cuchullain but who once defeated that hero in a wrestling match and who some believe was one of Caoimhe’s lovers.
These three men vowed to defeat the great host of Honorius and return to Cathair Beanna with the bishop’s head as a gift to their Queen. But it was not to be, for in three great and pitched battles, the forces of the rogue bishop swept away each of Caoimhe’s champions. The sites of these three battles were named after each of the members of the Brotherhood who fell to the rebel soldiers. The first was the Battle of Aidhm Aodh, where it was said that Aodh an Dearg’s rage grew so great that the field itself was set on fire and this inferno swept through the ranks of Honorius’ men killing many, before the Gaelic champion was cut down by a Roman named Peader. The second was the Battle of Gleann na Conn where the terrific force of Conn Lann Ghrá’s sword struck the side of a mountain, causing an avalanche which buried his forces, killing them all. Finally, there was the Battle of Loch Ruadhán where Ruadhán Mac Fearmór put up the strongest defense of the three champions, killing scores of Honorius’ men by his own blade, so that all men fought in a sea of blood that was up to their knees – and Ruadhán’s waist. However, he too was swept away when a black magician in the employ of Honorius called up the water of the nearby lake to swell over their banks and drown all of the Gaels. It was said that the spirit of the Lake so mourned her actions, that she later requested a Christian monestary be built upon her shores, which was done. [FN4]
With her champions felled, Caoimhe fell into an even darker depression as Bishop Honorius marched directly upon her citadel of Cathair Beanna. The Great Queen who had once stood strong in the face of so much adversity suddenly found herself without the energy to fight. She simply walked the halls of her palace, drapped in the black robes of mourning for all those within her life who had fallen, and she wept tirelessly over the deaths.
One night, while walking the walls of Cathair Beanna under the moonlight, as had become her way, a great mist seemed to boil up from the earth itself and quickly enveloped the Queen.
Caoimhe stood still in the mist, her head bowed, but refused to turn around to face the figure who she knew was even now approaching behind her. “What now, Mother? Do you come now to mock your daughter at the end of it all? You, who promised me a Kingdom, only to strip itfrom my grasp!”
But rather than words of reproach, her comments were met by a hearty and light laughter, which immediately touched her heart and seemed to lift the veil of sadness that had been cast over it for months. “Do not turn, if you do not wish to my dear Queen, but I think that you will find that I am hardly your mother. Though she does send her regards.”
At this strange voice, Caoimhe turned and the breath caught in her throat, for standing before her was the most beautiful man that she had ever seen. Golden curls crowned his hair, and his skin was even fairer than her own. A light seemed to eminate out from him, but whereever it touched, it cast no shadows at all. In his right hand he held a great golden spear that he absently leaned against. She knew immediately that there stood before her the god Lugh.
“Well then, Beautiful Man, is it you who come to mock me at the end of all things? To find merry in the flailings of a mere mortal who simply dreamed of making her mark upon this world of men?”
“Mock you,” Lugh said, “certainly not. Nor is this the end of all things, if you could but open your eyes and see that. You are the great Caoimhe Aon Féasóg, who holds all of the Empire in the grips of fear, yet I find you here – not fighting your foes and scattering them to the winds – but cowering behind the walls of your fort and awaiting the end.”
“I broke my geis,” she said, “out of pride and fear I violated the sacred bindings which have been placed upon me. And now my hubris has led to the death of more of my Brothers. My death is inevitable, and the more I fight it, the more good men will fall in my folly.”
At this, Lugh laughed and though there was a strength behind it, it was not cruel. “Your death is inevitable? Of course it is. All will die someday, will they not? Will the breaking of your geis lead to that death? Certainly, it will. But that does not mean that your death is destined for this day! Do you think that those men who follow you have no idea of what they are doing? For one who bemoans her own hubris, you fall into the trap of it all too easily. They follow you because they love you and trust you but, more importantly, because they choose to! They openly risk death in your service because they believe in you.”
“Yes,” Caoimhe said, “and that belief leads directly to their death!”
“Yes it does,” Lugh said, “but it is a death that they openly accept and court – to protect you, to win glory for you. And how do you repay the death they have given you? You sulk within your castle walls and long for the release that they gave their all to preserve you from.”
At this, Caoimhe began to weep openly, for she knew the truth of his words, but it only added to the guilt that she then felt.
“Do not weep, my Queen,” Lugh said, “I did not come here at the behest of your Mother to wound you deeper. I have come here to spur you on to battle and greater glory. I have come to share with you the way in which you shall defeat your enemies and drive them from the field of battle and into the next life. Yes, I assure you, you shall die as a result of the breaking of your geis – but you were to die in any case someday. That is the gift of being mortal.”
“Even if what you say is true, and I should fight, how can I do so? The host of Honorius even now descends upon Cathair Beanna and we do not have the forces left to stop them.”
At this Lugh laughed and said “Am I now known as Samildánach – he who is skilled in many arts? Am I also not known as Lonnbéimnech, the fierce striker? Grant me one boon and I promise I shall show you the way to drive Honorius from the field and into the Hell that has been assigned him by the God who is greater than I!”
“And what boon is that, Golden Man?”
“Only that when the war is completed, and you stand victorious upon the field of battle, that you lay with me – for I have been taken by your beauty and know nothing but love for you.”
“This I shall happily agree to,” Caoimhe said, “for I too have felt the stirrings of love for you as we have spoken. You are not just beautiful, but wise, and I feel that you have saved my life upon this day. So, yes, tell me how to defeat my foe, and you shall have whatever you ask.”
Lugh nodded at this, and his smile seemed to grow more radiant. “Abandon this fortress for, should you choose to hide behind its walls, it shall become a charnal house and you shall know nothing but death. Rather, disguise yourself, your sons and your closest followers and take to the countryside. There you shall meet many loyal supporters and make a new army. Remember your beginnings as a raider – hit them where they are weakest and draw more to your side. Eventualy, you shall have enough men to overwhelm any Lord of this Earth and drive them beneath the ground.”
“You speak great wisdom,” Caoimhe said, “I shall do as you suggest. And when I sip wine from a goblet fashioned from the skull of Honorius, come to me, and I shall happily lay with you. You have saved my life tonight, and the life of my sons as well, and I would love you for that alone!”
And then, as quickly as it had begun, the fairy mist departed and Caoimhe found herself standing upon the ramparts alone. But she was not the same woman as she had been mere minutes before, for the great hungry fury which had once burned in her heart had been rekindled by Lugh of the Long-Arm. And there she made the following vow: “Though I shall surely meet my end a t the point of spear or blade/ I shall die standing upon the land which I love/ The soil shall soak up my blood/ The river shall sweep away my sweat/ and the wind shall have my spirit/ God himself will choose the time and the day/ But I declare this now/ Honorius’s head will be my gift to the divine.”
And then she roused her closest followers and, dressing themselves as peasants, they made their way from the great fort and into the hills to the East. There it was agreed that they would meet again on Lughnasadh at the foot of Sliabh Sneachta [OTL: Mulhacén] and there regroup their forces but, until that time, they should scatter to the four winds and have no contact with one another. However, before they fled, she ordered many of their bigs and cattle to be driven to the center of the fort and slaughtered. Then, oce this was done, fire was set to the fortress so that all inside became a raging inferno and the slaughtered animals were reduced to charred bone.
When Bishop Honorius came to Cathair Beanna he looked over the wreckage and ordered his men to search through the ashes and rubble. There they found the remains of the butchered pigs and cattle which they reported to him. At this, the bishop became overjoyed, as he was certain the Caoimhe and her followers had committed suicide after setting their own home aflame. “Such is the way of barbarians,” he said, “for, when cornered like animals, they will often choose to take their own lives than face the justice of the Lord.”
A servant of the Bishop came to him and said, “Your eminence, I am not certain the Caoimhe and her followers are dead – for the bones we found appear to be nothing more than those of cattle and pigs.” And for this the Bishop had his servant’s tongue cut out, for he wished his foe to be dead, and feared that any word of her survival might incite the common folk of the realm into rebellion again him. His rule was harsh, for he wished to reinstate the Roman nobles to their control over the land, and punished anyone who was believed to have been a follower of Caoimhe or the Brotherhood. This earned him the name c, which means “The Hard Ruler” and to this day people will often spite their enemies by saying “May the Curse of Rialaitheoir Crua Be Upon You!”
That Lughnasadh the remaining men loyal to Caoimhe met at Sliabh Sneachta. Many were those who had fled from Cathair Beanna, others were survivors of the Three Great Battles, and others were supporters who had heard of her survival and now made their way to that snowy mountain to pledge their undying support for their Queen.
There, they kindled a great bonfire and as its smoke rose to the heavens, Caoihme stepped forward and said:
“I have failed you all. A great tyrant, the Lord Rialaitheoir Crua, the accursed Biship Honorius, now rules over the land which I had promised to protect – and a great wail rises up from the towns and fields of that lord, begging help. I failed, because I allowed my own hubris and sorrow to blind me to the threat until nearly all was lost.”
At this many wept, for they hated to see their Great Queen brought so low.
“But I will not fail you again,” she said. “If you follow me, we shall march forth from this holy mountain and bring the war to the False-Bishop. We shall raid his camps, capture his allies, and bleed his armies dry. But I cannot do this alone and though I know that I have failed you, I ask that you follow me once again so that we may right the wrong that have been done to this adopted land that we call home.”
A great shout went up amongst those gathered, and they cried out “We Shall Follow You to Hell Itself, Queen Caoihme!”
Having secured the loyalty of her followers, Caoimhe dispatched her sons to lead raids against their foes, for the Mac Caoimhe had now come of age and were ready to brandish a blade and taste the blood of their foes. Of these sons, the eldest were Ceallach and Ciaran who were both known as Cath Rugadh – the Battle-Born; for they had been born upon the field of battle after Caoime slew Igiber the Berber. Ceallach and Ciaran were fierce warriors in their own right; possessing the fair hair and dark complection of their father, but the grey eyes of their Mother.
Together, they raided a villa after villa loyal to Honorius, slew many men and took a number of captives. It soon became known that they were the twin sons of Caoimhe and her first husband, and many began to fear them, for they had the spirit of the wolf within them and were known to be driven into a wild frenzy as the scent of blood. Of these two, the most famed was Ceallach for it was said that he was once ambushed by ten men who were part of Honorius’ honor guard, and he slew them all by himself. When a comrad of his attempted to assist him, Ceallach beheaded his friend so that the glory of the battle would belong to him alone. For this he was chastised by his Mother, for she always strove to impress upon her children the importance of nurturing the loyalty of their fellows, but she could not help but laud him for his bravery and skill.
With each victory that the Battle-Born won, the number of Caoimhe’s forces grew, for those loyal to her heard of the resistance and came to Sliabh Sneachta hoping. There they found their Queen yet alive and the grand army that she was forming. She often met each one individually and asked him for his help in reclaiming the kingdom and ridding it of the tyrant which then set upon the throne, and in every case, she pleas were met with a lusty cry of assent.
Finally, a long year had passed, and Caoimhe’s forces had grown so large that they would surely starve if they did not depart from their mountain stronghold and seek to engage the enemy. By this time, all of the countryside was in flames, for the Mac Caoimhe had done their job well, striking Honorius where he was weakness and undermining his control wherever they found it. In response, Honorius and his Roman allies had sought to strip the lands of anyone they felt was disloyal, and the gallows of the land hung heavy with the fruit of patriots and those loyal to the Queen. Despite this, Honorius still felt that Caoimhe had perished within the flames of her fortress and those opposed to his rule were either chasing ghosts of the sons of a Great Woman.
The Army of Caoimhe traveled through the rocky and mountainous terrain until they came to Gleann Álainn – which means The Beautiful Valley – [OTL: Olvera] and there they made camp amongst the olive trees. Then the Queen announced her presence and said “You see not before you a ghost, but the rightful Queen of this land. Though I had been forced to flee by the treachery of a false bishop, I still live and have come now to reclaim my throne and restore peace and justice to this blessed land. Let all who know loyalty flock to my side and let those who are false and treacherous flee to their lord and tell the Black Bishop of my coming. For I am a merciful Queen and shall yet extend mercy to him, should he come to be on foot and beg forgiveness. But, know this: my mercy, once extended, shall not be granted again. Should Bishop Honorius continue in his rebellion, I shall take his head as a trophy as well as the heads of his associates. Go now and spread this word throughout my kingdom!”
When Bishop Honorius heard the Caoimhe still lived, he felt a great fear in his bowels and heart, for he knew that she would not rest until he paid for his crimes before her and God. He began to weep and throw himself upon the floor of his palace, for he knew not what to do. Finally, one of his servants came to him and said, “My Lord, did you not hear? Queen Caoimhe has offered you clemency for your crimes if you but come to her and beg forgiveness!”
And then an idea was born in the tainted heart of the Bishop, for his thought “perhaps I can come under the guise of peace and lure her into a trap! Then I could be rid of her and her foreign and peasant followers and rule this land as is my right!”
So he gathered his men together and said “We march today to Gleann Álainn and there we shall bring peace, once again, to this benighted land.”
And then they marched forth and came to Gleann Álainn where they found Caoimhe in all of her splendor as Queen of the land. At this sight, many of Honorius’ supporters began to fear and they wiavered in support of him. But he calmed them by saying “Though golden she is during the day, she shall surely rot by the end of this night.”
Then he sent forth a messenger who came to Caoimhe and said “I have been sent to tell you that bishop Honorius wishes to meet with you tomorrow at sunset and there he shall negotiate his surrender, for he has learned the error his ways and wishes to lay down his sword. However, he fears your fury and, though he accepts that you may take his life, he wishes to preserve the life of his followers who bear you no true grudge but were merely swayed by his serpent tongue.”
To this Caoimhe said “Then it shall be as he asks. Tell him to lay down his weapons and we shall speak tomorrow. I offer him the peace of passage to my camp and vow that no harm shall come to him or any of his followers in the morn, as long as he speaks true and follows his word.”
At this the servant nodded and said, “I shall bring your kind words back to my Lord’s ear.” But, as he was turning to leave, the servant stopped and turned back to the Queen. “My Queen,” he said, “I did not understand your majesty until I was within its presence and so I wish to now offer my sincerest apologizes for my rebellion against you.”
“Better men that we all have been led astray by false words and ignorance. I am humbled that you would come to me and apologize for your error.”
“I thank you, my Queen,” the servant said and bowed deeply, “Now, I fear I must say this though it will mean by death once I return to camp. But do not trust the words of my Lord for he is false and treacherous and I do not believe that he parley’s with you in good faith. Somehow, he seeks your death and I beg that you and your men be on guard tonight, for it something were to happen to you, I would never be able to foregive myself in this world or the next.”
And then he departed and made his way back to the camp of Bishop Honorius. There he entered the tent of the Bishop and said “My Lord, I have given the Queen the message that you asked me deliver.”
“Did you,” asked the Bishop. “And is that all that you told her?”
“I cannot tell a lie,” the servant said, “and so I shall admit that I told her more. I spoke to her of your treacherous nature and told her to guard herself tonight, lest you seek to strike her down through some trickery.”
Then the Bishop grew red in the race and he lept across the tent, wrapping his hands around the servant’s throat, “Then your honest tongue shall be heard no more in this land,” he cried as he strangled the life from the poor man. [FN5]
Turning to his associates, the Bishop said, “quickly! I fear that our plan has been foiled by an honest man. You must move quick. I wish you to infiltrate their camp and, once night has fallen, to end the life of Queen Caoimhe!”
And so they did so. Each of the three men dressed themselves in the clothes of the opposing camp and made their way amongs Caoimhe’s men until they had found her tent. Then they waited for night fall, when they knew her to be asleep, and made their way inside. Their plan was to slit her throat in the middle of the night but, thanks to the warning of the servant, she was ready for them – for she had only pretended to sleep. Instead they found her and her sons waiting for them, and in the following battle all threeo f the assassins were slain.
Then Caoimhe cried out “Treachery! Bishop Honorius tried to have be slain tonight! Quickly men, to arms! We shall destroy them this night or their sins.”
And with a great cry, the Brotherhood of Caoimhe surged forth and attacked the camp of Bishop Honorius. The battle was long and hard, and many on both sides died, but eventually the Queen’s forces were victorious. Caoimhe herself found Honorius in battle and, though he attempted to flee, she cut him down. As she had vowed that night many months ago, he had his skull turned into a golden drinking goblet and it became her favorite trophy.
Once the battle was done and Honorius had been slain, Caoimhe marched upon the capitol which threw the gates open for her, and she returned in triump. There she tried those who remained loyal to the deceased bishop – banishing the lands of those Roman Lords who had taken up arms against her, and stripping the titles of those priests who had supported the false bishop. In the place of both she invited in many Gaelic Lords and Priests to take up the open positions, and she officially named Colm as the new bishop.
One night, as he was overseeing the rebuilding of her fortress, a great mist suddenly descended upon her and, turning back around, the Queen saw herself facing Lugh once again.
"You once again sit upon your rightful throne, and your realm is at peace" he said.
"Yes I do, and it is largely because of you and the advice you offered me."
"No," he said, "it is entirely because of your spirit and the bravery of your soldiers. All I did was to blow my breath upon the embers of the fire which still smoldered in your heart."
"Be that as it may, I am a woman of my word. You promised your help in return for my love of you, and I am willing to give it. But, before I do so, let me ask you one thing. You said that I was still destined to die, but that it would be in the future. Are my geis meaningless?"
"No," he said again, "you will certainly die and your breaking of your geis shall bring that about. But not for many years, I think."
"Then I shall not worry, for all mortals must die. As long as I leave many sons to carry on my lineage, a prosperous people, and many tales to entertain the singers, I shall be content." And with that she led Lugh back to her chambers and from their union would be born the greatest of her children - Domhnall Mac Beanna
Once again, Queen Caoimhe ruled over a peaceful realm and she dedicated herself to rebuilding it from the rebellion and securing justice for her people. However, soon, events from outside her realm would stir her once again and she would be given the chance to take her vengeance upon King Lachtna of Rome and bring an end to the Ruination in the process. But in doing so, she would break her second Geis.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[FN1] If the tales of Caoimhe develop a cast of support characters as vibrant as King Arthur did in the persons of his Knights of the Round Table, this is likely the part of the story where many of their individual stories will occur. The folk memory within the Celtic world is of the members of the Brotherhood, going out and righting wrongs through the lands of Dal Caoimhe; think one-part knights and one-part western gunslingers. I figure this would be fairly fertile ground for later story tellers.
[FN2] The author here is grandly overstating his case. Esphailleas is the finest city of Caoimhe’s kingdom, and was rich during this era in OTL and the ATL. However, there is no way that it rivals Constantinople, or even Ravenna. One of the problems of writing a national origin myth, of course, is you are almost required to thump your chest a bit. The original storytellers did this, and our author friend is simply doing the same to maintain spirit of the originals.
[FN3] It hasn’t been stated openly at any time, but I’ve always had it in my head that Caoimhe has some father issues in her life. She was always close to her Father Fergus and being forced to flee his lands deeply hurt her. Here she is being confronted with the death of another Father figure, and its hard on her. She may be a great warrior and queen (and a rather brutal one at that!), but she, like the rest of us, has feels too
[FN4] One might note that each of these battles seem to be rather mythic in their nature. Whether they actually occurred or not is open to debate amongst scholars, some of which fall emphatically on the side of ‘yet’ while others argue with equal passion for ‘no.’ Even if they did, it is agreed that the stories that have been related to us have been badly corrupted within the oral tradition, so that its nearly impossible to tell where they occurred. Naturally, numerous places throughout Dal Caoimhe claim to be the site of this battle or that, though few have any evidence to back them up. The only exception of the Battle of Loch Ruadhán. For centuries, the lake known as Loch Ruadhán [OTL:Laguna Fuente de Piedra] was considered by locals to be the site of the final battle, but this assertion was dismissed by scholars, pointing to the lack of discussion of the local pelican population in the lore. But then, in the 1930s, escavasions uncovered the remains of an 8th century monastery which seems to support the later parts of the tale. If a battle between Caoimhe’s forces and those of Bishop Honorius was fought here, it would seem to indicate that Honorius’s forces were coming from the rugged east-central regions of the country and marching on the capitol.
[FN5] The author of this version of the tale of Queen Caoimhe isn’t exactly subtle on who the heroes and villains are. As a result, Caoimhe herself ends up as a fairly well rounded figure and three dimensional character (I HOPE!), but her opponents are not given the same benefit I fear. One of the joys of reading the young adult version, I suppose. The actual epic narrative that develops is slightly more well rounded. But that’s not the one we’re reading
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Okay, sorry for the few week wait here - school started and I've been swamped with classes, working on PhD proposals and also getting Confirmed (and no one is more shocked by that than myself. Actually, judging from my friends and family, I may be the ONLY one who is shocked me it!) I hope you enjoyed this update. I suspect we've got about two chapters left of the legends of the Caoimhe before we return to a more standard historical narrative. I know that working in legends like this is a bit unique amongst timelines on this board, but I'e had a great deal of fun writing it so far and I can only hope that you've all taken a fraction of the joy reading it as I have had writing it!
The Breaking of the First Geis
17th Century Depiction of Bishop Honorius of the Caoimhe legends
Part 6: The Bishop’s Rebellion
Following their retreat from Rome, Caoimhe’s Brotherhood returned to their kingdom carrying with them much of the loot which they had gained from their adventures in the lands of the Vandals. This loot, Caoimhe distributed amongst her followers as had long been the custom of the Brotherhood. But it was not just gold and jewels which her followers coveted, but also land, and this too they received. Many of the Gaelic nobles who had lent their sword arm to the struggles of the Queen were granted large estates throughout the kingdom. So great were the gift which Caoimhe gave to her followers, that she soon gained the title An Banríon Fiach – the Generous Queen.
Having given much of her own wealth away to her men, Caoimhe then turned her attention back towards the governing of her realm. The land had still not recovered from the ravishing of Igiber the Berber and many of the fields still lay fallow, while other pastures went untended or empty of cattle. With little law, and less food, many of the people of Baetica began to prey upon their neighbors and the highways became unsafe to travel for all but the best armed and most bold of her subjects.
These conditions offended Caoimhe, for she saw it as her duty to bring security, justice and peace to her Kingdom. Therefore, she built a grand palace south of Esphailleas upon the River Baetis to protect the city, and this fortress was known as Cashel Beanna – the Crow’s Fort. It was a great round fortress of stone and there Caoimhe held court and it was from there that she ordered her Fianna Brothers to travel trhoughout the countryside and bring justice where ever they saw villany, to restore peace wherever they found war. This they did, and a great many tales are told of their many adventures throughout the land. Their efforts did not go unnoticed for the people of the realm, who came to see the Brotherhood as their dear protectors, and the love of the people for their Queen increased daily. So too did the support of the Church, for Bishop Seamus – who had once invited Caoimhe to take up the protection of the land – came to be a closer friend and advisor in the royal court of Esphailleas and acted as her regent during her voyages abroad. He wondered at the energy of these foreign Gaels and their dedication to justice, though he was also equally surprised by their ways; turning a blind-eye to Caoimhe’s numerous husbands and the children that were the product of her embrace with these men. [FN1]
Not all within Baetica were happy, however. Many clergy were disgusted by the Gaels who now ruled over the land, took umbrage at the strange customs of that race, and were incensed at the behavior of their Queen who often donned armor and sword, fighting, dressing and acting as if she were a man. Also resentful were the native nobles of the realm, for they saw their traditional powers and rights slowly being eclipsed by the new comers.
For her part, Caoimhe was dismissive of both clergy and nobles. Of the clergy, she found their ways as equally foreign and mysterious as they saw hers and felt they resented her authority and power. As for the nobles, she was often heard to say that the nobles had been unable to protect their people against the Berbers and “Any man who cannot protect those in his care, is truly no man at all.”
Whatever tensions brewed beneath the surface, these years were remembered as ones of peace and prosperity for the generations to come. The Peace of Caoimhe fell over the lands and those who exploited or harmed the innocent were swiftly punished for their misdeeds. Each summer, Caoimhe and the Brotherhood took to their ships to raid and trade along the coasts of neighboring lands, bringing back great wealth and tales of adventure to their lands and the name Caoimhe Aon Féasóg was feared and respected throughout all the kingdoms of Europe and beyond. With each successful voyage, more and more Gaels came to the court of Caoimhe to take up service in the ranks of the Queen’s men, for all wished to become an honored member of her Brotherhood. Esphailleas soon became known as the capitol of a rich and vibrant kingdom, as well as a city of wealth, culture and beayty, matched only by Constantinople to the East. And the host of Cathair Beanna was respected and feared by all. [FN2]
And yet, peace cannot last forever – even in a land ruled by a gifted and strong Queen. During the tenth summer of Caoimhe’s return from Rome, Bishop Seamus grew weak and sick. The Queen was distraught at this, for she had come to rely heavily upon his council as well as see him as a true friend. She sent for the best doctors that could be found, but to no avail – it soon became evident that no one or thing could cure the illness that then plagued bishop Seamus.
Knowing the end was near, the Bishop sent for Caoimhe and many of her trusted men. They found him laying upon a bed of white linens, a look of serenity on his once troubled brow. As they came closer, he reached up and grasped Caoimhe’s hand. “Do not grieve,” he said, “for it is the blessing of all men that we should tarry upon his world for but a short time and then return home to our Father above.”
At this, Caoimhe bowed her head and wept silently.
“When I first came to you, I offered you the rule of this land if you could drive out the demonic hordes of Igiber and his Berbers. This you did. And in the years since, you have brought peace to my beloved home. Though I cannot know the will of God, I believe that he sent you here with a purpose, and that you have fulfilled it honorably every day since. Truly, I have come to see you as a daughter, my dear Queen, and I have always been proud to serve you in any way I can.”
“Please, Seamus,” Caoimhe said, “do not leave us. I have already been forced to flee the land of one Father and, if you speak true and consider me to be your daughter, I ask you not to abandon me at this time.” [FN3]
“That can’t be helped now, my daughter,” Seamus said. “But, before I go, I must tell you of a dream which has troubles me these past nights. I saw a great murder of crows blackening the sky. But then, a great wind descends upon them from below and scatters their numbers. Even the Great Crow which led the murder was forced to the ground where she hid beneath the branches of a bush, nursing her broken wings. But then a miracle occurred, for a great rain fell from above, and when the water touched her wounds, they were healed, and the Great Crow took to the sky again. With a mighty caw she called her flock back to her side and there they multiplied once again until the entire sky grew black as night.”
“What does this dream mean,” Caoimhe asked?
“That I do not know. But I believe it refers to you and your Brotherhood. Be careful once I am gone, for I fear that a great storm is brewing, which could wipe away all that you have built. You must remain strong like the Great Crow in my dreams and call all your followers back to your side. For it is only together that you may weather these winds.”
And, having then spoken, his grip of Caoimhe’s hand weakened, and that wise bishop fell back upon his bed, and his soul fled his body.
At this, Caoimhe let out a great wail, for it then seemed to her that all of the men she loved most in her life were destined to die and leave her. She became inconsolable and fled back to Cathair Beanna where she refused to be seen for three days and three nights. When she reemerged, she was dressed in the black of mouring, and would remain in such a state for months to come. And during this time, the office of Bishop of Esphailleas remained vacant, for the Queen refused to nominate any successor for the saintly Seamus.
Now, at this time, there then lived in Esphailleas a man by the name of Honorius. He was a member of the clergy, as well as a man of wealth and breeding, for he came from one of the great noble families of Baetica whose estates had been defiled by the Berbers and which were then stripped from them and given to the Gaels. It was said that the lord of the manor had fled the oncoming Berbers with his family and moved to Ravenna. He returned only after he felt that the land had been pacified but found Gaelic lords now presiding over his estates, who claimed they had thought the lands abandoned. Though he was given payment for his lands, this perceived insult gnawed at the nobleman’s heart and he passed his grievance on to his entire family. And so, a hatred was kindled in Honorius’ heart towards the Gaelic people and their Queen Caoimhe.
But Honorius was also an amibitious man and, seeing that the seat of the bishop remained open and the Queen refused to appoint a successor, he began to speak openly. “Is it right that we, the people of Esphailleas should be without a Bishop during these trying times? Certainly, Bishop Seamus was a saintly man and his memory should forever be tended, but he would not want his flock to left shepardless while wolves prowl our woods.”
At this, the people grew excited and they marched upon Cathair Beanna and there demanded that she appoint a bishop to rule over them. Caoimhe came out to meet them, dressed all in the black of mourning and asked what her subjects desired.
“A bishop, a bishop,” they cried out.
“But your previous bishop, Seamus, who was like a father to us all, is not yet cold in his grave. Would you dishonor his memory by demanding a replacement so soon,” she asked.
“We demand a bishop,” the crowed replied, “for we are but lost sheep without the guidance of one. Do you leave us leaderless, so that harm may come upon we, your loyal subjects?”
“Of course not,” Caoimhe said, “for I love you all, have spilled much blood to protect you and keep you safe, and was it not my Brotherhood which returned peace upon the land? Very well, if you wish a bishop, you shall have one. I know of a man named Colm – a great and holy man who even now resides in the hills outside of our city. I shall call for him immediately and name him your Bishop if you would like.”
Now, with these words, Honorius felt much fear, for he knew that Colm was a pious and holy man who was much loved within the city of Esphailleas. He ordered one of his men to begin a chant, and this chant was “We Want Honorius! For he is a native of these lands and we know him better than we do a foreigner!”
Soon others in the crowd took up the chant and it seemed as if the whole of Esphailleas echoed with cries of his name.
“Very well,” Caoimhe said, “if you desire Honorius, then you shall have them. For I love my people and shall abide by their decisions.”
And with that, Honorius stepped forward and received his vestments and was named as Bishop of Esphailleas. But, though he was dressed in robes of white, his heart was black with hatred for the Gaels. He wished nothing less than to drive them from the lands of Baetica and restore his family to the privilege and estates they had once known. In this he had many allies alongst the native nobles of the Kingdom, for they too found themselves forever in the shadow of their Gaelic allies and thirsted for revenge.
One day Honorius went to Caoimhe and said, “I know it is said that you have a geis placed upon you that you are unable to turn down the request of a churchman.”
“Yes,” Caoimhe said, “this is true and well known. Tell me, what is it that you wish of me.”
“I wish for you to leave this land of Baetica. I request that you throw down the cown which you have sullied by placing it upon your head, abdicate your throne, and set sail for the lands wence you came. I wish that my beloved homeland be free of you devils for now and evermore! You, for you fight like a man and whore yourself to anyone who throws you a coin, are unfit to rule over Christian men and women.”
Caoimhe frowned at this, as her face grew red in anger, “You know that this shall never be. I shall never forsake my vow to keep the people of this land safe, nor shall I ever remove the crown, which was promised to me, from my own head.”
‘But your geis states that if you do not abide the will of a Churchman than you shall surely die.”
“This is true,” Caoimhe said, “but is there a man or woman in this entire world who will not die? I openly accept any death that the Lord wishes for me but I shall not flee from this land that I love, like a coward. For the purple is as good of a color for a royal robe as it is a burial shroud!”
“Then, I fear,” Bishop Honorius said, “that we shall be forced to drive you from this land and step your devilry once and for all.’
“And I fear that we when we meet in battle, my sword shall be warmed in your life blood, false-bishop. Greater men than you have sought to bend me to their will and all have failed.” And, as she said these words, she stood up, and already her battle spasms were coming upon for, for her hair had begun to jut forth from her scalp and her face went red with rage and then black.
Seeing the terrible transformation come upon the Queen, Bishop Honorius fled from her sight, fearing that she would end his life before the war had even begun. Knowing that Caoimhe had many friends amongst the common people of Esphailleas, he did not stop his running until he had passed over the hills outside the city and made his way towards his allies in the countryside. There he, along with many of the Roman nobles of the land, raised a great host and began to harass those loyal to Caoimhe and the Brotherhood.
At first, Caoimhe did not take the threat of Bishop Honorius seriously, for had he not fled from her very sight? And her contempt for the native nobles of the land were well known. Furthermore, she knew that her warriors were the strongest in all the known world, and that she and her men were beloved by the common people of the land. Certainly, she felt, Honorius could never pose a true threat to her Kingdom.
But this over confidence would lead to much suffering. For Honorius and his men fought as small bands, harassing the loyal towns and estates of the land, and then melting back into the countryside before any response could root them out. And with each victory, he became bolder and began to draw more men to his banner. Among these were a great many soldiers who came to serve under him from the realms of Caoimhe’s many enemies: Berbers, Vandals, and even Romans loyal to King Lachtna of Rome flocked to Bishop Honorius’ side, and soon he was able to field a great and mighty army.
Caoimhe then began to appreciate the threat to her throne, but out of either over confidence or the deep sadness which still plagued her, she refused to take the field of battle herself. Instead, she dispatched three of her stoutest warriors and honored members of the brotherhood to destroy Honorius’ forces once and for all. These were Aodh an Dearg – a great man who was said to grow so hot in battle that men would burst into flame when they touched him – Conn Lann Ghrá – he of the mightly broadsword that he strike a boulder in half with but one swing – and Ruadhán Mac Fearmór – who was said to have been smaller than Cuchullain but who once defeated that hero in a wrestling match and who some believe was one of Caoimhe’s lovers.
These three men vowed to defeat the great host of Honorius and return to Cathair Beanna with the bishop’s head as a gift to their Queen. But it was not to be, for in three great and pitched battles, the forces of the rogue bishop swept away each of Caoimhe’s champions. The sites of these three battles were named after each of the members of the Brotherhood who fell to the rebel soldiers. The first was the Battle of Aidhm Aodh, where it was said that Aodh an Dearg’s rage grew so great that the field itself was set on fire and this inferno swept through the ranks of Honorius’ men killing many, before the Gaelic champion was cut down by a Roman named Peader. The second was the Battle of Gleann na Conn where the terrific force of Conn Lann Ghrá’s sword struck the side of a mountain, causing an avalanche which buried his forces, killing them all. Finally, there was the Battle of Loch Ruadhán where Ruadhán Mac Fearmór put up the strongest defense of the three champions, killing scores of Honorius’ men by his own blade, so that all men fought in a sea of blood that was up to their knees – and Ruadhán’s waist. However, he too was swept away when a black magician in the employ of Honorius called up the water of the nearby lake to swell over their banks and drown all of the Gaels. It was said that the spirit of the Lake so mourned her actions, that she later requested a Christian monestary be built upon her shores, which was done. [FN4]
With her champions felled, Caoimhe fell into an even darker depression as Bishop Honorius marched directly upon her citadel of Cathair Beanna. The Great Queen who had once stood strong in the face of so much adversity suddenly found herself without the energy to fight. She simply walked the halls of her palace, drapped in the black robes of mourning for all those within her life who had fallen, and she wept tirelessly over the deaths.
One night, while walking the walls of Cathair Beanna under the moonlight, as had become her way, a great mist seemed to boil up from the earth itself and quickly enveloped the Queen.
Caoimhe stood still in the mist, her head bowed, but refused to turn around to face the figure who she knew was even now approaching behind her. “What now, Mother? Do you come now to mock your daughter at the end of it all? You, who promised me a Kingdom, only to strip itfrom my grasp!”
But rather than words of reproach, her comments were met by a hearty and light laughter, which immediately touched her heart and seemed to lift the veil of sadness that had been cast over it for months. “Do not turn, if you do not wish to my dear Queen, but I think that you will find that I am hardly your mother. Though she does send her regards.”
At this strange voice, Caoimhe turned and the breath caught in her throat, for standing before her was the most beautiful man that she had ever seen. Golden curls crowned his hair, and his skin was even fairer than her own. A light seemed to eminate out from him, but whereever it touched, it cast no shadows at all. In his right hand he held a great golden spear that he absently leaned against. She knew immediately that there stood before her the god Lugh.
“Well then, Beautiful Man, is it you who come to mock me at the end of all things? To find merry in the flailings of a mere mortal who simply dreamed of making her mark upon this world of men?”
“Mock you,” Lugh said, “certainly not. Nor is this the end of all things, if you could but open your eyes and see that. You are the great Caoimhe Aon Féasóg, who holds all of the Empire in the grips of fear, yet I find you here – not fighting your foes and scattering them to the winds – but cowering behind the walls of your fort and awaiting the end.”
“I broke my geis,” she said, “out of pride and fear I violated the sacred bindings which have been placed upon me. And now my hubris has led to the death of more of my Brothers. My death is inevitable, and the more I fight it, the more good men will fall in my folly.”
At this, Lugh laughed and though there was a strength behind it, it was not cruel. “Your death is inevitable? Of course it is. All will die someday, will they not? Will the breaking of your geis lead to that death? Certainly, it will. But that does not mean that your death is destined for this day! Do you think that those men who follow you have no idea of what they are doing? For one who bemoans her own hubris, you fall into the trap of it all too easily. They follow you because they love you and trust you but, more importantly, because they choose to! They openly risk death in your service because they believe in you.”
“Yes,” Caoimhe said, “and that belief leads directly to their death!”
“Yes it does,” Lugh said, “but it is a death that they openly accept and court – to protect you, to win glory for you. And how do you repay the death they have given you? You sulk within your castle walls and long for the release that they gave their all to preserve you from.”
At this, Caoimhe began to weep openly, for she knew the truth of his words, but it only added to the guilt that she then felt.
“Do not weep, my Queen,” Lugh said, “I did not come here at the behest of your Mother to wound you deeper. I have come here to spur you on to battle and greater glory. I have come to share with you the way in which you shall defeat your enemies and drive them from the field of battle and into the next life. Yes, I assure you, you shall die as a result of the breaking of your geis – but you were to die in any case someday. That is the gift of being mortal.”
“Even if what you say is true, and I should fight, how can I do so? The host of Honorius even now descends upon Cathair Beanna and we do not have the forces left to stop them.”
At this Lugh laughed and said “Am I now known as Samildánach – he who is skilled in many arts? Am I also not known as Lonnbéimnech, the fierce striker? Grant me one boon and I promise I shall show you the way to drive Honorius from the field and into the Hell that has been assigned him by the God who is greater than I!”
“And what boon is that, Golden Man?”
“Only that when the war is completed, and you stand victorious upon the field of battle, that you lay with me – for I have been taken by your beauty and know nothing but love for you.”
“This I shall happily agree to,” Caoimhe said, “for I too have felt the stirrings of love for you as we have spoken. You are not just beautiful, but wise, and I feel that you have saved my life upon this day. So, yes, tell me how to defeat my foe, and you shall have whatever you ask.”
Lugh nodded at this, and his smile seemed to grow more radiant. “Abandon this fortress for, should you choose to hide behind its walls, it shall become a charnal house and you shall know nothing but death. Rather, disguise yourself, your sons and your closest followers and take to the countryside. There you shall meet many loyal supporters and make a new army. Remember your beginnings as a raider – hit them where they are weakest and draw more to your side. Eventualy, you shall have enough men to overwhelm any Lord of this Earth and drive them beneath the ground.”
“You speak great wisdom,” Caoimhe said, “I shall do as you suggest. And when I sip wine from a goblet fashioned from the skull of Honorius, come to me, and I shall happily lay with you. You have saved my life tonight, and the life of my sons as well, and I would love you for that alone!”
And then, as quickly as it had begun, the fairy mist departed and Caoimhe found herself standing upon the ramparts alone. But she was not the same woman as she had been mere minutes before, for the great hungry fury which had once burned in her heart had been rekindled by Lugh of the Long-Arm. And there she made the following vow: “Though I shall surely meet my end a t the point of spear or blade/ I shall die standing upon the land which I love/ The soil shall soak up my blood/ The river shall sweep away my sweat/ and the wind shall have my spirit/ God himself will choose the time and the day/ But I declare this now/ Honorius’s head will be my gift to the divine.”
And then she roused her closest followers and, dressing themselves as peasants, they made their way from the great fort and into the hills to the East. There it was agreed that they would meet again on Lughnasadh at the foot of Sliabh Sneachta [OTL: Mulhacén] and there regroup their forces but, until that time, they should scatter to the four winds and have no contact with one another. However, before they fled, she ordered many of their bigs and cattle to be driven to the center of the fort and slaughtered. Then, oce this was done, fire was set to the fortress so that all inside became a raging inferno and the slaughtered animals were reduced to charred bone.
When Bishop Honorius came to Cathair Beanna he looked over the wreckage and ordered his men to search through the ashes and rubble. There they found the remains of the butchered pigs and cattle which they reported to him. At this, the bishop became overjoyed, as he was certain the Caoimhe and her followers had committed suicide after setting their own home aflame. “Such is the way of barbarians,” he said, “for, when cornered like animals, they will often choose to take their own lives than face the justice of the Lord.”
A servant of the Bishop came to him and said, “Your eminence, I am not certain the Caoimhe and her followers are dead – for the bones we found appear to be nothing more than those of cattle and pigs.” And for this the Bishop had his servant’s tongue cut out, for he wished his foe to be dead, and feared that any word of her survival might incite the common folk of the realm into rebellion again him. His rule was harsh, for he wished to reinstate the Roman nobles to their control over the land, and punished anyone who was believed to have been a follower of Caoimhe or the Brotherhood. This earned him the name c, which means “The Hard Ruler” and to this day people will often spite their enemies by saying “May the Curse of Rialaitheoir Crua Be Upon You!”
That Lughnasadh the remaining men loyal to Caoimhe met at Sliabh Sneachta. Many were those who had fled from Cathair Beanna, others were survivors of the Three Great Battles, and others were supporters who had heard of her survival and now made their way to that snowy mountain to pledge their undying support for their Queen.
There, they kindled a great bonfire and as its smoke rose to the heavens, Caoihme stepped forward and said:
“I have failed you all. A great tyrant, the Lord Rialaitheoir Crua, the accursed Biship Honorius, now rules over the land which I had promised to protect – and a great wail rises up from the towns and fields of that lord, begging help. I failed, because I allowed my own hubris and sorrow to blind me to the threat until nearly all was lost.”
At this many wept, for they hated to see their Great Queen brought so low.
“But I will not fail you again,” she said. “If you follow me, we shall march forth from this holy mountain and bring the war to the False-Bishop. We shall raid his camps, capture his allies, and bleed his armies dry. But I cannot do this alone and though I know that I have failed you, I ask that you follow me once again so that we may right the wrong that have been done to this adopted land that we call home.”
A great shout went up amongst those gathered, and they cried out “We Shall Follow You to Hell Itself, Queen Caoihme!”
Having secured the loyalty of her followers, Caoimhe dispatched her sons to lead raids against their foes, for the Mac Caoimhe had now come of age and were ready to brandish a blade and taste the blood of their foes. Of these sons, the eldest were Ceallach and Ciaran who were both known as Cath Rugadh – the Battle-Born; for they had been born upon the field of battle after Caoime slew Igiber the Berber. Ceallach and Ciaran were fierce warriors in their own right; possessing the fair hair and dark complection of their father, but the grey eyes of their Mother.
Together, they raided a villa after villa loyal to Honorius, slew many men and took a number of captives. It soon became known that they were the twin sons of Caoimhe and her first husband, and many began to fear them, for they had the spirit of the wolf within them and were known to be driven into a wild frenzy as the scent of blood. Of these two, the most famed was Ceallach for it was said that he was once ambushed by ten men who were part of Honorius’ honor guard, and he slew them all by himself. When a comrad of his attempted to assist him, Ceallach beheaded his friend so that the glory of the battle would belong to him alone. For this he was chastised by his Mother, for she always strove to impress upon her children the importance of nurturing the loyalty of their fellows, but she could not help but laud him for his bravery and skill.
With each victory that the Battle-Born won, the number of Caoimhe’s forces grew, for those loyal to her heard of the resistance and came to Sliabh Sneachta hoping. There they found their Queen yet alive and the grand army that she was forming. She often met each one individually and asked him for his help in reclaiming the kingdom and ridding it of the tyrant which then set upon the throne, and in every case, she pleas were met with a lusty cry of assent.
Finally, a long year had passed, and Caoimhe’s forces had grown so large that they would surely starve if they did not depart from their mountain stronghold and seek to engage the enemy. By this time, all of the countryside was in flames, for the Mac Caoimhe had done their job well, striking Honorius where he was weakness and undermining his control wherever they found it. In response, Honorius and his Roman allies had sought to strip the lands of anyone they felt was disloyal, and the gallows of the land hung heavy with the fruit of patriots and those loyal to the Queen. Despite this, Honorius still felt that Caoimhe had perished within the flames of her fortress and those opposed to his rule were either chasing ghosts of the sons of a Great Woman.
The Army of Caoimhe traveled through the rocky and mountainous terrain until they came to Gleann Álainn – which means The Beautiful Valley – [OTL: Olvera] and there they made camp amongst the olive trees. Then the Queen announced her presence and said “You see not before you a ghost, but the rightful Queen of this land. Though I had been forced to flee by the treachery of a false bishop, I still live and have come now to reclaim my throne and restore peace and justice to this blessed land. Let all who know loyalty flock to my side and let those who are false and treacherous flee to their lord and tell the Black Bishop of my coming. For I am a merciful Queen and shall yet extend mercy to him, should he come to be on foot and beg forgiveness. But, know this: my mercy, once extended, shall not be granted again. Should Bishop Honorius continue in his rebellion, I shall take his head as a trophy as well as the heads of his associates. Go now and spread this word throughout my kingdom!”
When Bishop Honorius heard the Caoimhe still lived, he felt a great fear in his bowels and heart, for he knew that she would not rest until he paid for his crimes before her and God. He began to weep and throw himself upon the floor of his palace, for he knew not what to do. Finally, one of his servants came to him and said, “My Lord, did you not hear? Queen Caoimhe has offered you clemency for your crimes if you but come to her and beg forgiveness!”
And then an idea was born in the tainted heart of the Bishop, for his thought “perhaps I can come under the guise of peace and lure her into a trap! Then I could be rid of her and her foreign and peasant followers and rule this land as is my right!”
So he gathered his men together and said “We march today to Gleann Álainn and there we shall bring peace, once again, to this benighted land.”
And then they marched forth and came to Gleann Álainn where they found Caoimhe in all of her splendor as Queen of the land. At this sight, many of Honorius’ supporters began to fear and they wiavered in support of him. But he calmed them by saying “Though golden she is during the day, she shall surely rot by the end of this night.”
Then he sent forth a messenger who came to Caoimhe and said “I have been sent to tell you that bishop Honorius wishes to meet with you tomorrow at sunset and there he shall negotiate his surrender, for he has learned the error his ways and wishes to lay down his sword. However, he fears your fury and, though he accepts that you may take his life, he wishes to preserve the life of his followers who bear you no true grudge but were merely swayed by his serpent tongue.”
To this Caoimhe said “Then it shall be as he asks. Tell him to lay down his weapons and we shall speak tomorrow. I offer him the peace of passage to my camp and vow that no harm shall come to him or any of his followers in the morn, as long as he speaks true and follows his word.”
At this the servant nodded and said, “I shall bring your kind words back to my Lord’s ear.” But, as he was turning to leave, the servant stopped and turned back to the Queen. “My Queen,” he said, “I did not understand your majesty until I was within its presence and so I wish to now offer my sincerest apologizes for my rebellion against you.”
“Better men that we all have been led astray by false words and ignorance. I am humbled that you would come to me and apologize for your error.”
“I thank you, my Queen,” the servant said and bowed deeply, “Now, I fear I must say this though it will mean by death once I return to camp. But do not trust the words of my Lord for he is false and treacherous and I do not believe that he parley’s with you in good faith. Somehow, he seeks your death and I beg that you and your men be on guard tonight, for it something were to happen to you, I would never be able to foregive myself in this world or the next.”
And then he departed and made his way back to the camp of Bishop Honorius. There he entered the tent of the Bishop and said “My Lord, I have given the Queen the message that you asked me deliver.”
“Did you,” asked the Bishop. “And is that all that you told her?”
“I cannot tell a lie,” the servant said, “and so I shall admit that I told her more. I spoke to her of your treacherous nature and told her to guard herself tonight, lest you seek to strike her down through some trickery.”
Then the Bishop grew red in the race and he lept across the tent, wrapping his hands around the servant’s throat, “Then your honest tongue shall be heard no more in this land,” he cried as he strangled the life from the poor man. [FN5]
Turning to his associates, the Bishop said, “quickly! I fear that our plan has been foiled by an honest man. You must move quick. I wish you to infiltrate their camp and, once night has fallen, to end the life of Queen Caoimhe!”
And so they did so. Each of the three men dressed themselves in the clothes of the opposing camp and made their way amongs Caoimhe’s men until they had found her tent. Then they waited for night fall, when they knew her to be asleep, and made their way inside. Their plan was to slit her throat in the middle of the night but, thanks to the warning of the servant, she was ready for them – for she had only pretended to sleep. Instead they found her and her sons waiting for them, and in the following battle all threeo f the assassins were slain.
Then Caoimhe cried out “Treachery! Bishop Honorius tried to have be slain tonight! Quickly men, to arms! We shall destroy them this night or their sins.”
And with a great cry, the Brotherhood of Caoimhe surged forth and attacked the camp of Bishop Honorius. The battle was long and hard, and many on both sides died, but eventually the Queen’s forces were victorious. Caoimhe herself found Honorius in battle and, though he attempted to flee, she cut him down. As she had vowed that night many months ago, he had his skull turned into a golden drinking goblet and it became her favorite trophy.
Once the battle was done and Honorius had been slain, Caoimhe marched upon the capitol which threw the gates open for her, and she returned in triump. There she tried those who remained loyal to the deceased bishop – banishing the lands of those Roman Lords who had taken up arms against her, and stripping the titles of those priests who had supported the false bishop. In the place of both she invited in many Gaelic Lords and Priests to take up the open positions, and she officially named Colm as the new bishop.
One night, as he was overseeing the rebuilding of her fortress, a great mist suddenly descended upon her and, turning back around, the Queen saw herself facing Lugh once again.
"You once again sit upon your rightful throne, and your realm is at peace" he said.
"Yes I do, and it is largely because of you and the advice you offered me."
"No," he said, "it is entirely because of your spirit and the bravery of your soldiers. All I did was to blow my breath upon the embers of the fire which still smoldered in your heart."
"Be that as it may, I am a woman of my word. You promised your help in return for my love of you, and I am willing to give it. But, before I do so, let me ask you one thing. You said that I was still destined to die, but that it would be in the future. Are my geis meaningless?"
"No," he said again, "you will certainly die and your breaking of your geis shall bring that about. But not for many years, I think."
"Then I shall not worry, for all mortals must die. As long as I leave many sons to carry on my lineage, a prosperous people, and many tales to entertain the singers, I shall be content." And with that she led Lugh back to her chambers and from their union would be born the greatest of her children - Domhnall Mac Beanna
Once again, Queen Caoimhe ruled over a peaceful realm and she dedicated herself to rebuilding it from the rebellion and securing justice for her people. However, soon, events from outside her realm would stir her once again and she would be given the chance to take her vengeance upon King Lachtna of Rome and bring an end to the Ruination in the process. But in doing so, she would break her second Geis.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[FN1] If the tales of Caoimhe develop a cast of support characters as vibrant as King Arthur did in the persons of his Knights of the Round Table, this is likely the part of the story where many of their individual stories will occur. The folk memory within the Celtic world is of the members of the Brotherhood, going out and righting wrongs through the lands of Dal Caoimhe; think one-part knights and one-part western gunslingers. I figure this would be fairly fertile ground for later story tellers.
[FN2] The author here is grandly overstating his case. Esphailleas is the finest city of Caoimhe’s kingdom, and was rich during this era in OTL and the ATL. However, there is no way that it rivals Constantinople, or even Ravenna. One of the problems of writing a national origin myth, of course, is you are almost required to thump your chest a bit. The original storytellers did this, and our author friend is simply doing the same to maintain spirit of the originals.
[FN3] It hasn’t been stated openly at any time, but I’ve always had it in my head that Caoimhe has some father issues in her life. She was always close to her Father Fergus and being forced to flee his lands deeply hurt her. Here she is being confronted with the death of another Father figure, and its hard on her. She may be a great warrior and queen (and a rather brutal one at that!), but she, like the rest of us, has feels too
[FN4] One might note that each of these battles seem to be rather mythic in their nature. Whether they actually occurred or not is open to debate amongst scholars, some of which fall emphatically on the side of ‘yet’ while others argue with equal passion for ‘no.’ Even if they did, it is agreed that the stories that have been related to us have been badly corrupted within the oral tradition, so that its nearly impossible to tell where they occurred. Naturally, numerous places throughout Dal Caoimhe claim to be the site of this battle or that, though few have any evidence to back them up. The only exception of the Battle of Loch Ruadhán. For centuries, the lake known as Loch Ruadhán [OTL:Laguna Fuente de Piedra] was considered by locals to be the site of the final battle, but this assertion was dismissed by scholars, pointing to the lack of discussion of the local pelican population in the lore. But then, in the 1930s, escavasions uncovered the remains of an 8th century monastery which seems to support the later parts of the tale. If a battle between Caoimhe’s forces and those of Bishop Honorius was fought here, it would seem to indicate that Honorius’s forces were coming from the rugged east-central regions of the country and marching on the capitol.
[FN5] The author of this version of the tale of Queen Caoimhe isn’t exactly subtle on who the heroes and villains are. As a result, Caoimhe herself ends up as a fairly well rounded figure and three dimensional character (I HOPE!), but her opponents are not given the same benefit I fear. One of the joys of reading the young adult version, I suppose. The actual epic narrative that develops is slightly more well rounded. But that’s not the one we’re reading
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Okay, sorry for the few week wait here - school started and I've been swamped with classes, working on PhD proposals and also getting Confirmed (and no one is more shocked by that than myself. Actually, judging from my friends and family, I may be the ONLY one who is shocked me it!) I hope you enjoyed this update. I suspect we've got about two chapters left of the legends of the Caoimhe before we return to a more standard historical narrative. I know that working in legends like this is a bit unique amongst timelines on this board, but I'e had a great deal of fun writing it so far and I can only hope that you've all taken a fraction of the joy reading it as I have had writing it!
So, correct me if i'm wrong but her kingdom is mostly spain without the vasconic or valencian regions?
It's the old province of Hispania Baetica, basically modern day Andalusia.
@DanMcCollum excellent updates, very epic! You even had Caoimhe under a massive reversal (nobody can keep a zero-loss record after all) and still come out ahead. Not sure who I liked seeing struck down most of Caoimhe's foes but Honorius (ironic name given his nature, exaggerated or not) was a pretty good contender.
Still, Long Live Dal-Caoimhe
Wow, given Caoimhe has carved out a realm of hers in Spain, which surely is part of the Amalingian heartland, the Amalingian Empire must be coming apart at the seams. I assume the Empire is solely confined to Italy and parts of Gaul?
With reference to FN1, Later on in the TL--perhaps a few centuries on, will we see revisions to the Caoimheic "canon" in the vein of the Arthurian cycle?
I'm not very well versed with the Age of Migrations (and European history in general), so forgive the stupid question: Gaelic Christianity does seem rather pagan. Is this historical or part of the AH?
With reference to FN1, Later on in the TL--perhaps a few centuries on, will we see revisions to the Caoimheic "canon" in the vein of the Arthurian cycle?
I'm not very well versed with the Age of Migrations (and European history in general), so forgive the stupid question: Gaelic Christianity does seem rather pagan. Is this historical or part of the AH?
Celtic/English christianity was rather different until William the Conquerer.
It's the old province of Hispania Baetica, basically modern day Andalusia.
@DanMcCollum excellent updates, very epic! You even had Caoimhe under a massive reversal (nobody can keep a zero-loss record after all) and still come out ahead. Not sure who I liked seeing struck down most of Caoimhe's foes but Honorius (ironic name given his nature, exaggerated or not) was a pretty good contender.
Still, Long Live Dal-Caoimhe
I also took a small bit of satisfaction of Caoimhe dispatching Honorius. He was such a duplicitous ass! Though, on pure levels of brutality, her killing of Igiber was far greater - executing his son before his eyes and then defeating him while she herself was heavily pregnant (and the fact that she gave birth to two healthy sons right after the battle, one can assume she WAS very pregnant at the time. At least in the stories)
As for Honorius' name - yes, I chose it largely for the irony. I've actually been trying to carefully select many of the names in this mythic cycle; either for ironic value or to reveal something about their character. Look up what Caoimhe's name means, if you doubt me
Thanks for the compliments by the way! This cycle of chapters has truly ballooned far beyond how I had initially concerned of it abd currently sits at 80+ pages. I've always tried to work mythic elements into the history of the this timeline and, apparently, part of me just said "screw it! Let's write an actual mythic cycle!". Glad I did so - but damn, these chapters currently constitute almost 20 percent of the entire tineline.
And, as for the reversal of Fortune - exactly. One can't keep going from win to win; that would make for a boring tale indeed. And, besides I figure that any invading force such as Caoimhe's would eventually meet some kind of violent reaction. And, despite her many positive traits, I've tried to point out that she, as a character (both her mythic and 'real' selves) does have some serious flaws. Overconfidence being just one such example.
I'll start with the first question/point first. The Ruination is not named such, either in-universe or out, for no reason.
As has been hinted - and somewhat shown - its a fairly brutal multi-faceted civil war that drags on for over a decade.If you want to get a sense of how bad it gets, look into the figure of King Lachtna. I promise you, he has made an appearance in this timeline before - but under a somewhat different name, and from a very different perspective.
Now, all that being said, its important to realize that Caoimhe didn't carve her kingdom out from a completely hostile landscape. She was acknowledged by the ruler of Hispania - at least according to the stories - and so she hasn't had to worry about being ousted by Gothic officials; at least yet.
Also, we can't be entirely sure how large her Kingdom really is yet. Although the stories seem to depict it as encompassing all of Baetica, there is a good chance that the stories are reading a later status quo back into the past. Much the same as if a poet or story teller depicted America during the Revolutionary War as controlling all of the continental 48 states.
Now, for the second point: Yes, I think it's safe to say that the stories of Caoimhe and Brotherhood will eventually take a place in culture that is somewhat comparable to that enjoyed by Arthur and his Knights on OTL. The figure of Arthur also exists in the ATL, but those stories will take a somewhat different form therein and won't reach the same level of popularity as in OTL (in our timeline, much of their prominence stems from the Normal Conquest which which certainly won't be happening here!)
One thing I've been trying to do in these posts is hint as several different layers of development in the stories - though I'm not sure how successful I've been in my attempts. For instance, there are some truly brutal acts depicted in the stories - Caoimhe has no problem turning people's skulls into goblets, for instance, and the exploits of her sons in the past chapter could easily be from a Norse saga. However, there are also more cultured and sophisticated aspects, such as the deep depression she feel into after the death of her friend the Bishop.
I've been trying to go for a sense that the legends have developed over time, and the character of Caoimhe has been difficult for some as she resists ever being truly domesticsted. But, once again, I'm not entirely sure if I've been successful!
Now, for the final point. Celtic Christianity did have some marked differences from Christianity as it was practiced on the continent in OTL (all the while, and I need to stress this, remaining within the Catholic Church). These practices included married priests, bishops and monks, as well as the position of Bishop being inheritable. There was also an effort at synchronization of a sort, where many popular Pagan figures were eventually associated with Christian figures. I'm looking at you St. Bride!
Now, it's been established in the ATL that a Celtic Church, independent from Rome, does arise as some point - although when or how has been left in question.
But I would also caution readers from drawing too many conclusions about the presense of pagan figures in the story of Caoimhe. Even in OTL, many Pagan gods show up in later mythic cycles of Irish literature, such as those of Finn MacCool. Or one could look to the Norse world for another example. The Eddas, from where we get most of our knowledge of Norse Mythology, we're actually written after Iceland had been successfully Christianized. Why? Because the tales of old God's and heroes still remained very popular. Some Christian writers attempted to cast these figures in a sinister light - such as Odin's representation in the Saga of King Hendrick the Wise where he is seen as a malevolent and demonic figure handing out weapons to spurr on conflict (though, in all honesty, Odin was sometimes seen like thst even in more positive representations!) - while others just accepted the stories for what they were and told them.
One could even read the constant presence of Garlic Pagan dieties in Caoimhe's life as a subtle dig upon her character. Almost as if the Church had difficulty with a figure such as her and tried to ascribe her heritage to pagan (read: demonic) origin as a result. This wasn't uncommon even in OTL when Deitrich of Bern (likely Theodoric the Great) was seen aa being the son of the Devil and able to breath fire. Even Merlin was said to have been the son of a demon.
I am finally caught up!
Some notes:
1. The use of "v" in the transliteration of the Old Gothic alphabet kind of irks me a wee bit since the letter as such didn't exist in Gothic at the time. (e.g. -vald would be -wald in that era, very likely)
Also of trivia note is that some consonants which are distinct in English tended to be merged as approximants in 4th-6th century Gothic, most notably the letters "v" and "b", which are distinct in English, got kind of smashed together in a Spanish-like way back then, so that the letter B in the Gothic alphabet likely took on a similar sound value. Indirect proof of this is alternation between word-final "f" and word-medial "b" in noun and adjective paradigms (see an example here).
Not to say that Gothic over the centuries might not split the sounds eventually (as in Slavic for example, where the Cyrillic alphabet has two distinct letters for B and V), though...
2. Miniscules in the Gothic alphabet. I've seen some alphabets that take the "best shot" at what they might look like, such as Ulfilas by Robert Pfeffer. I would've liked to see one based on Silubr, though, but Silubr only has capital letters. I think I'd be partial to the way Cyrillic alphabets just make the capitals smaller, but please no ridiculous creation of letters that look like "m" for small t's!
3. I'm kind of tickled pink there are some Gothic settlements in OTL England! I would love to see the resulting effect on the *Anglisk (Old Gothic Aggilisks) of TTL. I suspect that like the Old Norse effect on Anglo-Frisian (which restored some of the harder consonants so we get skirt/shirt doublets), we might see a similar hardening of some sounds in *Anglisk, but the effect on verb and noun endings would be considerably different.
Looking forward to moving into the Middle Ages and how the Arian church's growing institutionalization will affect secular politics and vice versa.
Some notes:
1. The use of "v" in the transliteration of the Old Gothic alphabet kind of irks me a wee bit since the letter as such didn't exist in Gothic at the time. (e.g. -vald would be -wald in that era, very likely)
Also of trivia note is that some consonants which are distinct in English tended to be merged as approximants in 4th-6th century Gothic, most notably the letters "v" and "b", which are distinct in English, got kind of smashed together in a Spanish-like way back then, so that the letter B in the Gothic alphabet likely took on a similar sound value. Indirect proof of this is alternation between word-final "f" and word-medial "b" in noun and adjective paradigms (see an example here).
Not to say that Gothic over the centuries might not split the sounds eventually (as in Slavic for example, where the Cyrillic alphabet has two distinct letters for B and V), though...
2. Miniscules in the Gothic alphabet. I've seen some alphabets that take the "best shot" at what they might look like, such as Ulfilas by Robert Pfeffer. I would've liked to see one based on Silubr, though, but Silubr only has capital letters. I think I'd be partial to the way Cyrillic alphabets just make the capitals smaller, but please no ridiculous creation of letters that look like "m" for small t's!
3. I'm kind of tickled pink there are some Gothic settlements in OTL England! I would love to see the resulting effect on the *Anglisk (Old Gothic Aggilisks) of TTL. I suspect that like the Old Norse effect on Anglo-Frisian (which restored some of the harder consonants so we get skirt/shirt doublets), we might see a similar hardening of some sounds in *Anglisk, but the effect on verb and noun endings would be considerably different.
Looking forward to moving into the Middle Ages and how the Arian church's growing institutionalization will affect secular politics and vice versa.
Technically it should be -uald as Latin didn't have w either and u/v are the same letter then.
I wrote a whole post early in this thread on how I saw contemporary Roman spelling of Gothic proceeding, some of which was taken up, some deliberately left to show it was Gothic.
Aha, I'll have to go find it. To be fair the transliteration system as conventionally given in English textbooks on the subject tend to smash together English and German orthographical conventions so that "j" is used to represent the y-sound, but "w" is used to represent the Gothic importation of Greek upsilon for a sound that is in between semivowel-u and actual w, and I'm used to that
To save you some time:Aha, I'll have to go find it. To be fair the transliteration system as conventionally given in English textbooks on the subject tend to smash together English and German orthographical conventions so that "j" is used to represent the y-sound, but "w" is used to represent the Gothic importation of Greek upsilon for a sound that is in between semivowel-u and actual w, and I'm used to that
Sorry for the delay on this.
Some Thoughts on the Evolution of Gothic in TTL
A) Writing out ATL Old Gothic
Whilst some argument can be made for some retention of the Gothic Alphabet in TTL since these Goths are now firmly in the Roman World instead of the periphery I can see them adopting the Roman Script.
Transcribing ATL Old Gothic is fairly similar to OTL modern transcription but with these particulars:
/kw/ would be written [qu]
/hw/ would be [hu]
Since the distinction of /j,w/ is much disputed OTL and not really distinguished the in Vulgar Romances we can be cautious and write them [i,u]
/ŋ/ in clusters would be written [n]
/θ/ may be maintained asbut perhaps becoming [th] when lost. Some case can be made for borrowing [þ] from the AS dialects but any Latin will likely use [th] as they did for the AngloSaxons.
The 5 short vowels are fairly consistent with Roman [a, e, i, o, u] (cf [a, aí, i, aú, u] ).
The long vowels are trickier. Mostly I'd expect them to be doubled and subject to how strong Latin/Romance influences are - eg [ee, oo] vs [ei, ou]; /i:/ could variously be [i, ie, y].
Ironically in this TL it will be sorted out whether 6thC Gothic kept the /ai/ and /au/ dipthongs since the expected digraphs are used for /e, o/; they're often written [ái, áu] OTL where they could be used.
B) Phonological Changes
Whilst your notes indicate that a language called Gothic survives to modern ATL times I get the impression of ebb and flow, and bilingualism, across OTL North Italy before standardisation and demarcation sets in. This I think it worthwhile to consider the influence of Latin (incl Church Latin) and the regional Romance dialects [1]. Perhaps a good analogy could be the development of Old Franconian to Dutch; though the effect of Norman on Late Old English woudl also help.
So I see these phonological changes:
i) palatalisation of [c, g] /k, g/ before /i,j/ and most /e/ to /tʃ, dʒ/. Thus /ki, gi/ would be written (like Italian
ii) loss of /θ/ as a separate phoneme - elised medially and assimilated in clusters
iii) further fricatisation of medial [b, g] /β, ɣ/ to /v, h/
iv) "schwa-isation" and loss of unstressed vowels
v) loss of medial /h/
C) Grammatical Changes
As with other Germanic languages we will see regularisation of word order, levelling of the verb and noun cases, and creation of articles from determiners. How much depends on the influence of native and biligual Latin/Romance speakers. Do you want retention of the unique Class VII verbs? Dual tenses? etc
[1] Some form of Gallo/North-Italian will probably exist - perhaps as Veneto-Istrian or Illyrian?
