Rex Britannorum

Thinking about limiting the use of old welsh and old english unless needed specifically. I think the next few posts will dictate the stories of both Rhodri and Alfred.
 
I'll enjoy it which ever why you end up going.

Well after doing some research and finding out possible health issues regarding Alfred I think I will dial up those problems. And though I have kept Rhodri alive in this TL. I do not know if he will see out the year 877 much like he did in OTL.
 
REX BRITANNORUM



“They have been overrun my lord, the fortress is ours.”

“Hardly a fortress, hardly a victory. My son is dead and our forces halved. This place hasn't had good upkeep. The Sais up north pretty much neglected it and as soon as the Norse came it was pretty much a second thought. They'll know we have it soon, both Mierce and Saison. We won't have long.”

The battle was won, at a great cost to Rhodri and his men. The fortress was woefully protected but Rhodri's men lacked discipline and resolve. The Mierce had been waiting for their King Ceolwulf to return but now they had an idea of what occurred in the west. Shoring up their defences they held out for a day amidst the Britons attacks. But a combination of poor planning and bad luck opened the way for Rhodri.

The Mierce had opened the gates of Deva thinking the Britons forces had been almost depleted but they had not, they foolishly broke formation as soon as they left their fortress, The Britons turning face charged again, they had expected their enemy to wipe them out. Merfyn, son of Rhodri led the charge but was struck down, a blade between the shoulders cruelly ending his life in a cold manner.

Rhodri embraced and held his son whilst the battle ensued, the battle was not going in his favour. Ordering his men to take Merfyn's body to the fringes of the fight he waded in to the heart of the conflict. Blinded by rage and despair, Rhodri cut down every Mierce before him, those armed and unarmed, with no mercy towards his enemy and no care for his son safety he cut a path to the gates of Deva. The battle was won but not without great loss, for not only was Hi son lost, so was half his men. A host of 4000 travelled and just under half that remained fighting fit and alive.

“Round up the leaders. I want a point to be made.”

There was no mercy left in the King's heart. No compassion. A cold determination and lack of empathy remained. The leaders of the men of Deva were brought before their men, those who had remained and been captured. The way the men looked, like their last moments caught as their heads were separated from their bodies. Impaled upon wooden stakes and paraded from the walls as a message to those in the distance wondering what was happening.

“You dogs and bastard sons of rapists. Hear me now and hear me quick, you want this to happen to you. You want this to happen to your children and people. You are now my subjects, my property. Those who say no have the option of dying. You took from me my son and I in turn offer you a life of servitude but a life. I am a fair man but I am not weak. You will learn this”

The cold. Brutal words and tone resonated throughout the Mierce as it did his own men, this was not the hodri they followed. He was changing. Gone was the measured and noble King and in his place a sad and broken but vicious man was emerging.” If only Anaraut was with us” became the unspoken mantra of his men.

“You will all take names of our people, your words will become ours and soforth. Anyone caught speaking whatever tongue you speak will be punished. Men, get these people to work at once. I want this fortress rebuilt and ready within a month.”

“Right away Rhodri.”

“King Rhodri... Send word to Cadell and Anaraut of their brother's... passing. He will not have died in vain. Send his corpse home. And bring me three riders. I have messages to send that must be kept secret”

The soldier ran away quickly, there was much to do. The father in the north and son in the south had taken different route to war in many different ways. The sky began to take an ominous crimson tone. The bards would know these signs. But blood must be shed, it must. There was no turning back now, the Kingdom of Gwynedd was on the rise. The bloodline of the old north was strong once again. And for far too long had they been subservient to their neighbours. It was by the sword they carved themselves kingdoms and took an isle then it would be the same that it would be retaken by Rhodri. King of the Kymry he would be by any means and in the old tongue of Rome he would be Rex Britannorum.
 
REX BRITANNORUM​



"My son... how is he?" Alfred asked, his frail appearance more and more noticeable with each passing day.

"He is hanging on. But I fear he grows weak. My king. You must rest, I fear your illn.."

"My illness? I am fine Angalgar. Just tired. please do all that you can for my son. He must grow and live"

Angalgar bowed and walked away, Alfred was not an old man but his appearance would have you fooled. For many months now he had suffered with great pains and his body had suffered as such. He was fighting a losing a battle against his own health and he knew his days were numbered.

It was a cold night that not even the fires that burned in his chamber cold overcome. Alfred sat down at his table and wrapped himself tightly in his warmest fur. He began to write. For hours he wrote and wrote, barely pausing for rest. The sun broke through the clouds, it was dawn.

Angalgar entered his chambers with his masters morning meal, he saw Alfred asleep on his desk, sprawled out across it. He had been up for hours it seemed writing endless amounts.

"Your food is here my King. Your favourite.. My King?"

Angalgar reached over to the King, his skin was cold and lifeless, gently lifting him onto the back of his chair he saw the worst. Alfred had passed. His illness had finally overcome him and defeated the young King. Twenty and eight years old but his appearance was easily a man twice his age.
Alfred, successor of Æthelred and son of Æthelwulf, King of Westseaxna had passed away in the night. Leaving a newborn son Edward and his wife. The prodigious King would not live to see his dream come to fruition.







OOC: Veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeery short update. Thought I'd just get this out and done so I can focus on the main story. Shame for Alfred. Accelerated Crohn's disease basically rendering him inert and succumbing to it.
 
Another Sais king pegs it!:)

Perhaps the greatest of them. Culturally it will be a huge loss for the Anglo-Saxons in this TL. But there will be someone they can idolize much in the same way, just he will be a different kind of A-S King. More Briton than A-S but very staunchly proud of his people. BUT this is the age of the Britons.
 
Perhaps the greatest of them. Culturally it will be a huge loss for the Anglo-Saxons in this TL. But there will be someone they can idolize much in the same way, just he will be a different kind of A-S King. More Briton than A-S but very staunchly proud of his people. BUT this is the age of the Britons.

More please!
 
REX BRITANNORUM


For many days the men toiled over their work. They needed a rest from the drudgery and monotony of road and fort building, but it was necessary The southern King Huwel had sworn fealty to the northern prince Anaraut and his resistance had been met in kindness with a few souvenirs of varying shades across is face and torso. Huwel remained with Anaraut in Kaer to learn more of the southerners whilst his men and Anaraut's rebuilt the fortifications.

“The princes in the south are often allied to the Mierce and Ceolwulf, second of his name. But he has not from what I have heard sent messages back to them or his people in the past few days. Reports say both the Sais and the othr princes grow restless.”

“Well my father made sure that Ceolwulf will not be coming back. The fool stuck him like a pig. Great deal of help that has done to our cause.”

“That actually may be to our advantage. I may have sworn loyalty and an oath to you but it doesn't mean I must agree with you or like you. But the southern princes know only of Ceolwulf and his sword. They don't know his face, few do anyway. But from description, that club fisted bastard who made me look this handsome fits the description of Ceolwulf”

Anaraut chuckled to himself, he knew where this conversation was gong. But he let Huwel continue. He had come this far and every gambit he taken had paid off, the odds were in his favour. The prince listened to Huwel and his idea. It was mad, insane even but it was ingenious.

“You have that blade of his, I know you do. A father would gladly gift his son a fine weapon. Only to challenge him to better it. Your Sais 'friend' and his men will be our scouting party and I guess you could say spies. They will open their halls to find out about what a renewed 'alliance' could bring. Greedy back-stabbers the lot down here”

“Yourself included Huwel?”

“I'm the bloody worst of the lot. Except I have this thing about honour and being allergic to punches to the face and possible beheadings you see. Now do you think he and his men could be trusted to carry out a plan like this?”

His face looked uneasy, not once had these Mierce attempted to kill him or betray him. In fact they had protected him and watched over him every step of the way on this venture. But still the old blood feuds in him gnawed away, even the greatest predator sometimes feigns injury to lure in his prey.

“We will just have to see wont we. But my question is this. What do you want from this?”

“I want Kaer Went. I want Kaerllion. I want to push further into the east and make my legacy and name known. I am a King. And I will die a king. My children though will never receive such a title.”

“Life Huwel, it throws us many choices and at times, more often than not only gives us what it thinks we deserve. Great men have their Kingdoms handed to them, some take them by force. Or if you're my father you do both. He married my mother and gained her land through inheritance and took what he was given and took more and more because life told him he deserved it. Who knows, I might marry your daughter haha!”

“Funny you should say that...”
 
REX BRITANNORUM



Kaerloyw or what the Saxons called Glowancestre was like many towns and defences before it a Roman fort. It was defensible. It was strong. It was a challenge.

“Are the men ready?” asked a wisened old man, built like the Gods had constructed him for one purpose; war.

“They are. The defences of Mercne are too easily taken, if the little cowards had come here we would be knee deep in their bodies right now. I think they have fled farther south into Alfred's domain.”

“Alfred... he hasn’t bothered us for quite some time now. We have sailed far into his lands and rarely have we been tested. Something peculiar happens there”

The old man sharpened his war axe, into it carved runes that gave him blessing of the Gods. Gods he still clung to in the face of ever growing plague of Christianity amongst his people. It was dark now, the citizens of Glowancestre remained within their walls, not knowing the threat that waited outside of them, ready to attack and reap their rewards.

It was swift, at first morning light when the gates of the castellum opened the Vikings of Guthrum broke from their vantage points and en masse broke Glowancstre. The people did not see it coming. It was at this time that remnant of the fleeing Mierce that had been scattered by the Viking raids from Guthrum's people encountered them again. Their choice was simple. The south to Alfred's domain was blocked by the war bands of Guthrum, north they had the Norse there too. East was lost to them, they had lost the border lands seemingly opening up Mercne to a Norse reunification of those lands. The west... the west where the Walhaz lived. The southern lands were easy to take. There numbered almost five thousand refugees and more could come soon. Tens of thousands were displaced by the raids. Some regrouping in cities not far from their homes. Smaller ealdormans used this to cement their position within their communities. It had been what felt like weeks since they had received word from Ceolwulf and this clear lack of defence against the Vikings of the Dena Lagu had turned many against his rule.

“It was a good day to die. But not the right day to die. This cesspool is done with. Take the women, let the men make their choices. The children... leave them. What good can a child do against us. If they cannot survive the winter alone then let their God protect them” Guthrum declared, he had won a victory this day, not a great victory. It was too easy, the city was meant to be strong and ready for war but something wasn't right. The Mierce had given up almost, the lack of leadership only reinforced his belief something was not right.

“That Ceolwulf in Mierce. I want him to meet with us. He does not fight when his people are being slaughtered, he does not care for battle. I bet he is hiding or suckling on someone whores teet as we speak. Pathetic. And send riders to Alfred, I want to test his resolve. He is taunting us by doing nothing whatsoever.”

The great Heathen King Guthrum of the Norse-Viking realm. He held the southern portion of the Dena Lugu as the Mierce & Saexna called it, they called it the Danelagen or more simply. Our land. He surveyed his work. The bodies of many men lay on the floor lifeless, it was pathetic. He had come here expecting a fight that would be remembered for all time and instead got himself a fight that resembled a bear and a rabbit.

“No” he thought to himself “There is more. This cannot be it. I want more. Alfred why do you not test me like a man!?”
 
So Rhodri takes the place of OTL Alfred?

His son Anaraut does. Rhodri lives on a bit further and strengthens his position and that of his family along the border between both Kingdoms.

Anaraut will basically be an alternate Alfred and enact many similar reforms that he did, as will Rhodri. A shared approach to ensuring the Kymry do not falter

As far as Alfred's replacement in Wessex there will be a few claimants.
 
REX BRITANNORUM​



Winter had arrived, the fort of Kaer had been rebuilt and re-purposed to the needs of Anaraut and his men. And just in time too. The rains that had lashed down on the countryside from north to south had gone. In its place came winter. Snow topped the grounds of Kaer and the valleys in which it resided.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” asked Anaraut as Humberht and Wulfhild looked on at their surroundings. Fresh snow rested on rooftops of the fortifications. The men had worked hard for two weeks to finish their task. They had achieved their task.

“It is something different I will say. The view is staggering but cold. Not a home or town as far as the eye can see.” Humberht replied as he watched the horizon, he was wary of Huwel and his men. It had been several days since he left to return to his home to begin preparations.

The sound of hooves crunching in the soft snow filled the air, from the north they came. Horsemen, numbering in the hundreds, footsoldiers behind. These were not men of Rhodri, their banners unfamiliar to the young prince. But not unfamiliar to his men. Wulfhild caught a glimpse in the distance, amongst them he recognised several banners, one in particular was noticeable.

“Barricade and defend the gates. They cannot be left to advance any further. They do not know.”

Anaraut was confused, Wulfhild and Humberht both acting with a sense of trepidation and giddy excitement, finding it hard to keep their motions in check they quickly ran to their horses & began preparing them.

“Where do you think you are going? Who are those people?” Anaraut demanded. It was connection jumping away to ride off to meet these people but to order the closure of the fort with no reason. He wanted answers and quickly. Humbert and Wulfhild looked at one another, they could not hide the truth from him.

“They are... our kin. They are marching on the lands it seems. But they are far from home and not all of them carry the same banners. It does not feel right in any way. Wit your permission I ask that you let us ride out and meet with them.”

“Alone... I cannot allow it. I am sorry. A great number of your kinsmen approach and I want to know why”

“That is why we must ride. It is a number far too great for the purpose of taking these lands. Please my lord, lt us ride out before we all suffer” Wulfhild pleaded. His words had softened Anaraut and he agreed if only he would ride with them. In his heart he felt they were not to abandon him but his head was torn. He knew of the nature of some Mierce and their betrayals but he knew that not all of them were like that. Especially these two whom in their short amount of time in his service had proven themselves to be trustworthy.

Anaraut, Wulfhild, Humberht & twenty of Anaraut's men rode out of Kaer The sound of their horses show crunching through the snow and touching the rebuilt Roman road beneath their feet. Their banners blew in the cold Winter wind that was making itself at home. It was risky meeting the wandering bands of Mierce with so few. It was then they saw them. Numbering almost six thousand strong. This was no war band or great invasion. These were women and children and what remained of the Tomsaete and other tribes. A few Pencersaete and Hwicce rode amongst them. These were refugees. They were not ready to fight but nor were they ready to give up on their existence.

Humberht and Wulfhild watched as the host approached, unbeknownst to them that they were being watched carefully. Anaraut saw them, old women carrying newborns and young men barely old enough to carry a spear marched alongside men who had known too many winters. This was certainly no warrior band. This would be for a lesser man a great victory, but over whom? Old men, infants and farmfolk.

“Raise the standards. I assume you have your own? Let them see who rides to them now” hissing his standard high, a red dragon carved by his people. Reminiscent of the old dragon standards used during the era of Roman rule. It had become his peoples symbol, a reminder that they were not yet defeated.

“We do my lord” Wulfhild replied, lifting his standard. Much like Anaraut's but it bore the image of a wolf, it's 'tail' blowing in the wind alongside that of the dragon. “

“Then we ride.”

Advancing along the hillside, Anaraut made for the wandering Mierce refugees. It was then they were spotted The horsemen quickly rallied and rode out against the northern prince until Humberht and Wulfhild took charge and rode ahead of Anaraut. They made with great haste to their kin, the wolf standard whistling in the wind. Anaraut mustered his men to follow as quickly as they could to make up ground with the two of them.

“They better have cause for this desertion” muttering to himself as the wind and snow stung his face. Anaraut was annoyed by their reaction, what on earth were they doing. The riders came to a standstill when before them they saw the two, face to face with a large number of the wandering Mierce. Their weapons not brandished not their mood hostile.

“What took you so long?” chuckled Wulfhild as Anaraut arrived, “I thought the snow had sucked you in with all its siftness.”

“I am Anaraut, son of Rhodri of Gwynedd and of the Kymry. Why are you in these lands?”

“We are here because we are broken young master Walhaz. We are tired, we are spent and we have no homes. So please do not speak down to us. We have given no reason for your tone.”

“Your name old man? What is your name”

“His name is Herebeorht... he is my father” Humberht replied. “He is thegn of our people. And he is far from home. Where is Elswyth. Is she with you?”

“ Now tell me... when did you become and underling for a jumped up Walhaz prince. Last I heard you rode with Ceolwulf against his father...clearly things have changed.”

The mood was turning more tense, the reunion of father and son was not as predicted nor expected. Anaraut wondered who 'they' were and why the thegn had chosen these lands. His head was filled with many thoughts and clarity was not his strongest ally in this moment.

“Your people need food and rest. You will follow us to Kaer. I need to know more of you and I suspect there are reunions to be fully and properly dealt with. You have this one chance. Follow or turn around. Your choice Thegn Herebeorht”

“I will comply. And you there, Wulfhild is it. A lot of these men here know you it seems. The Tomsaete keep to themselves. Speak with them if you will. They are a very... spirited bunch”


Within the walls of Kaer they sat and discussed, Humberht, Wufhild, Herebeorht and Anaraut. Father and son argued amongst themselves more than they conversed with the others. Wulfhild and Anaraut kept their conversation amongst the two of them. But no less impassioned.

“There are too many of them for us to feed and help. I am sorry, but we cannot let them stay here. We have enough to cover our own people and the march to Kaerllion.”

“We can't just let them keep walking. Many of them are falling ill and this weather will not be gone any time soon. We cannot abandon them to the wilds” argued Wulfhild, “There are enough men for us to take the south now. The route north is safe for the women and children and those unable to fight.”

The room went silent. Herebeorht and Humberht stopped their arguing, the proposal was simple. Those who could fight will fight and those who cannot will be sent up north and away from the conflict.

“You are proposing shepherding our people into the heartlands of these Walhaz who we are meant to be fighting. And what then when we reach the north. Will we be welcomed with open arms or with fists wrapped around a blade. What you are suggesting is north short of slavery, but then again it seems both you and my son have already elected that path” Herebeorht was not pleased. He would not accept anything short of their own land, their own homes. To be subservient to those he had fought against countless times. It was nothing short of betrayal.

“I am proposing the continued existence of our peoples. And at this rate with your foolishness they'll be half dead or all dead. And we chose to fight this cause. We chose this path of 'slavery' as you call it. I would rather die a death in his service than that of that idiot Ceolwulf. For all his words look where he ended up. A head in a sack”

“So it's true. He died. The Earldormans and Thegns have been picking away at his domain s fast as they can. Without him the entire realm has been in chaos. The Norse have forced us westwards and so have our own people. We are not united. We are close to the brink”

“The Norse.. we have a truce with the heathen don't we? Why is he attacking us?”

Herebeorht sighed, he knew the reason. It wasn't some grand conquest that all men aspired to achieve. It wasn't to be considered King of all the peoples. It was a more simple and painful honest truth.

“He wants to fight. He want to bring the fires of war to every corner. He strikes out from Lundburgh with many men. Last I heard he had ransacked Glowancastre. He is testing us. He has broken us, next he will test Alfred's Westsaexne if he can. And then turn his eyes westward... conquest is second only to the thrill of war to him. I should know, heathen bastard told me so after we submitted to him. Bastard”

Anaraut poured himself a mug of wine. He kept it safe for when there were times to celebrate or when he really needed something to calm him down. As the wine passed his lips he could taste every drop of it, rich and sweet with a sharp after taste. He needed it. Wiping away the remnants from his lips he looked at each of the man before him. He needed to combat this threat before it was too late but they had plans. They had to take Kaerllion, far too much time had been squandered and with no word yet from his father he was fearing the worst.

“Herebeorht. If you and your men will fight for me I will guarantee your peoples safety and their independence. But I cannot allow them to all travel together. They must be scattered.”

“Preposterous. That is nothing more than expecting our people to turn into little Walhaz after time.”

“Maybe but I cannot allow the chance of open rebellion and the taking of my lands. Those who are able to fight will join us under the command of Wulfhild, Humberht, yourself and I. And when Huwel returns he will assist in the taking. We are more than seven thousand strong. We can only feed half that number on the march south. But we can feed those who would go north and they could feed themselves.”

“The Tomsaete are willing to commit themselves to fighting. They tell me our homes have been burned and taken. We are without a home and we have nothing to lose. My son and wife are scattered with the other refugees who fled. I do not know where they are but I would rather see him grow up a child born Mierce and raised Walhaz than die Herebeorht you insufferable halfwit. Pull your head from your ass and see the light.”

“Father... please. It is the only choice. If there was another way then I would take it.”

“Another way... you speak in finalities my son. I thought I taught you better than that. I am going to turn those who can march around and take Glowancastre. They left it standing from what men we crossed. Any man can take it undefended. Those who can march will march. And you can join us. Leave this 'prince' and rejoin your peoples. Both of you. We can give our children the lives they deserve, raised in the traditions of our people. What say you?”

Wulfhild and Humberht looked at one another and to Anaraut. Herebeorht was willing to risk the lives of those who had travelled so far only to turn around and take a ravaged city for his own glory. Anaraut remained silent. He had no say in these matters, he was of old blood. He wasn't Mierce.

“I would love nothing more to join you father. As would Wulfhild. We have spoken many times about seeing our homes again, but we do not have a home to go to. We wore oaths. One thing you taught me was honour and never to break a promise. I will not fore-sake those teachings. Not even for blood. I am sorry”

“Thegn Herebeorht. I can promise you a life far greater than the one you have ever known. You are impatient, boorish, foolhardy, immature and prone to overacting. But you are determined, you are a leader of men. You are one of the best of your people and if Humberht is anything to go by you have been great father. But I will not let you march those men to their doom. How far do you think you would get in this weather before your people would turn on you? You would not even reach the border before your men dump your bed in the nearest river. Join us and I will see your women, children and elderly kept safe.”

“I can....”

The sound in the distance was familiar but why it be heard this far south. Anaraut rushed to the walls of the fort from the warm room in which he and the others were kept warm in. The horn blew once more. It echoed throughout the valleys ahead and all round. It was a battle horn. A Kymry one. The faint dark outlines n the growing flurry of snow grew. First one, then two and this continued until he saw the great number of them. A single banner wildly flapping in the blizzard that was growing every hour, he knew it instinctively.

“Oh no....”

“What is it Anaraut? What is that noise?” Wulfhild asked. The look of worry on the prince's face answered the question. It was someone that was not expected and in Anaraut's eyes not needed.

“My father... he is coming here... but how?! Why?!”
 
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