The Sadness Will Never End

[WorldWarZ]

This is my final attempt at creating a truly cohesive and engaging timeline based upon the son of Rhodri Mawr of Cymru & the decline of the Anglo-Saxons in Britain. My previous timeline will be resurrected only in plot themes and the writing overall will be altered as I feel this is the right time to start anew with this timeline which has failed numerous times due to insufficient effort and/or lack of plot direction.

So please feel free to follow and read

THE SADNESS WILL NEVER END​

Part One. Wrath​

When the Romans left Prydain many believed it would be the time for the Britons to finally take back their lands and become what their legends had foretold. This was not to be.
The kings and princes of the various British domains for years had used the mercenary talents of the Germanic Saxons, Angles & Jutes to assist them in fighting the Picts of the northern lands and fight amongst themselves.
This over time became the biggest mistake ever committed by the Britons and the mercenaries had become invaders, invaders had become conquerors and finally these conquerors had become Kings.


During the twilight years fifth century at Mynydd Baddon[1] the Britons allied against the Anglo-Saxon hordes that now sought expansion over all of the Isles of Prydain, the result was in favour of the Britons that day, a victory needed so badly to maintain the existence of the Britons and their culture, a victory attained and a victory that for the next few decades halted the rapid expansion of the Angles & Saxons.


But in the end, the trials and tribulations of the Brythonic peoples would result in the division of the Britons and the expansion of the Angles, Saxons & other Germanic peoples in Prydain.
The resulting division led to the peoples of Prydain becoming the Britons of Kernow, Gwynedd, Powys, Deheubarth & Ystrad Clud.


The following centuries across Europa had not been calm, the Roman empire was now divided and the the western Roman empire was no more with Rome now longer THE city that ruled an empire, merely a city within someone's kingdom.
The Eastern Roman empire grew and became everything its now dead sibling wished it could've been.

Also in the east a new religion was burning through the deserts of Arabia, Islam. Forged from the iron will of a prophet named Muhammed whose blend of Jewish, Christian and his own belief that God had chosen him and only him to be the word of God had made him a powerful man and even after his death his successors would bear his name and strike fear into the hearts of those who opposed them.

Prydain was a mess. The Angles had decimated the north and east of Prydain and created the Northumbrian & Eastern Anglia kingdoms whilst the Saxons in the south formed many kingdoms, most notably Wessex & Mercna[2] & to add to the utter devastating expansion of the 'arms for hire' now turned conquering Anglo-Saxons centuries after the Briton victory at Mynydd Baddon a new threat arose from the cold barren shores of Norge & Danmark[3], the Norse or the Vikings as others would come to know them.
Their kingdoms stretched from East Anglia to the Hebrides & Shetlands, to the Isle of Mann, across Eire and most prominently across Yr Hen Ogledd[4] & the Anglian kingdom of Northumbria the largest Norse kingdom was forged under the name of Jorvik.


In the year of our lord 876, the island of Prydain was carved up between the unstoppable kingdoms of Wessex, Mercia & Jorvik its smaller co-kingdoms.
The Britons had been forced into the western hills of Prydain and until this day rarely saw eye to eye unless it was to fight against their foreign neighbours who drove them into the wet and wild mountains.
Cruelly dubbed 'Welsh' by the Mercne[5] which in their language meant 'foreigner' the Britons were no real threat except to themselves, their tradition of dividing the land between their heirs upon the regent's death had splintered and forced Briton against Briton for hundreds of years with the western 'Welsh' princes and Kings at one another's throats.
But in the north upon the Isle of Ynys Mon, the house of Aberffraw led by Rhodri Mawr, son of Merfyn Frych continued to oppose the Mercne & the Norse of Jorvik too.
A glimmer of hope and a beacon of Brythonic culture and hsitory rested upon the shoulders of Rhodri Mawr or in the tongues of the Anglo-Saxons 'Rhodri The Great'.


In the same year 876 Rhodri came face to face with his adversary & long time rival, King Alfred of the West Saxons & claimant to the kingship of the Mercne[6] and suffered a great defeat, Rhodri whose life had taken him across the Isles of Prydain, to Eire & back and fought countless warriors and even had his tale of his victory against Gorm the Dane recanted in the halls of the Frankish King was now at deaths door, his sons Merfyn, Cadell & Anarawd were each given as tradition stated land each, the Kingdom of Rhodri was no more when his last breath would be drawn, instead it would be divided and seemingly return to the petty squabbling of old, benefiting nobody but the Britons enemies & especially Alfred who for years looked at the land the Britons were now calling Cymru, the 'Land of the Cymry' a word that evolved from the old Brythonic word combrogi... compatriots...brothers.


The most prominent and skilled of the three sons of Rhodri was Anarawd, sharp of tongue and sharp of mind and skill, his brothers too were quite the vipers when it came to war but lacked Anarawd's sheer understanding of diplomacy and tactics, he was a soldier in the mould of the old legends of Artorius/Arthwr[7], a man born into a Roman Prydain but his blood was that of the natives, a man who according to legend walked amongst the Saxons and knew no fear and across many days and nights stopped the expansion of the Anglo-Saxon hordes.


Anarawd although at this time was content in being just a son of the great Rhodri, but that would pass sooner rather than later as with each passing month the Angles & Saxons strengthened their grip on the old Brythonic lands of old and like their forebears passed their envious eyes over to the western hills and lands of 'Wales', a land the natives themselves knew as Cymru, the land of compatriots and brothers.
But brothers divided by petty squabbling that had marred them for what seemed an eternity and now with the Brythonic power and culture seemingly on the wane, unity was needed more than ever from the divided kingdoms and principalities of Cymru.








[1] Mons Badonicus/Badon Hill
[2] Mercia
[3] Norway & Denmark
[4] The Old North
[5] Mercians
[6] Alfred of The West Saxons & claimant to the Kingdom of the Mercne/ OTL King Alfred
[7] King Arthur

 

[MerryPrankster]

I like it already. I will keep an eye on it.

 

[OwenM]

This is good and in beautiful prose. You may want to change your signature - it still points to the old version.

 

[WorldWarZ]

Part 2: Rapture & Delight​

"I see before me the ruin of the Britons, the Cymbrogi[1] disunited because of foolish pride. Is this really how we will take in our last breathes, as wild men of the mountain as a new age dawns, an age not of our making?"

In the year 876, the petty squabbles of the Cymbrogi houses seemed neverending, something that Alfred of Wessex saw to use to his advantage. The squabbles amongst his people although were many still did not equate to the foolishness of the Britons. The Angles & Saxons along with their Jute neighbours had for the past few decades been dealing with the Britons in the south & west and the remnant of the Britons in the land known as 'Yr Hen Ogledd'[2] know the Angle Kingdom of Northumbria and also in parts as Jorvik, the bastardized lands of the Danes, carved from the strength of their men who believe death only is the beginning, their ruthlessness masks a true purpose, an intelligence underestimated.

The years of 876 to 878 were not kind to the Cymbrogi. Alfred of Wessex, a king of great stature and of instaiable appetitie for power and learning in equal measure set his sights on reforming his kingdom whilst reinforcing his domain for future generations. Except it was not to be.

12th May 878 at Ethandun, the Danes marched forward through the lands of the Saxons after consuming the north with relative ease, the heathens from the cold wastes and met Alfred in open battle.

Alfred the Great had spent the winter preceding the Battle of Ethandun in Athelney in the Somerset marshes, the location provided him with good natural protection. In the Spring of 878, he summoned his West Saxon forces and marched unto Ethandun, where he met the Danes, led by Guthrum the Old, in battle.

Guthrum's reign had seen the Danes expand across the isles of the Britons and despite defeats here and there and uprisings, his danes were not stopped, merely paused but the fruition of their hard labour had come, the West Saxons were all that was left to contend with for supremacy in these Isles now though many of the Danes & Guthrum himself. Unfortunately for himself and also for Alfred they had discounted the young Anarawd ap Rhodri, son of Rhodri Mawr whom in the same year of the battle of Ethandun passed away fighting against Alfred's men, a move which further created tension between the sons of Rhodri & their Saes[3] neighbours. Gwriad ap Rhodri, a lesser known son of Rhodri whom was to be granted Ynys Mon[4] as his fiefdom perished also in battle. The loss of two men of the house of Aberffraw[5] was too much to bare for some and especially so for the remaining triumvirate of Cymbrogi princes.

As the Danes and West Saxons met one another in battle, Alfred ensure the majority of his fighting force remained behind the fortifications they had secure whilst the Danes did all the hard grafting and work. The men of the counties still not ravaged by Dane sword and axe rallied to Alfred and they fought for freedom and for their future. meanwhile Guthrum sat and both an advantage and a great disadvantage for he had lost the support of two noble Dane lords not long before the battle and he had lost a great 120 ships in a storm of the coast of the Isles of Prydain but he had men who were soldiers, men who were ready to risk it all if not for mortal glory but also for Immortal glory in the halls of their heathen gods.

The battle was only a few hours old and Alfred had already been forced tyo commit the vast majority of his men into battle if not to overwhelm the Dane forces with numbers but the fight was a constant stalemate with no side able to achieve the upperhand and soon matters would get worse.

Rumours abound from both sides heard of the 'Welsh' raiding along the Mercna border and of a great army led by three brothers, exaggerated perhaps but a rumour could do great damage if even untrue. The rumours from messengers seemed to arrive faster and faster with each couple of hours, the 'triumvirate' were steadily approaching the Dane ravaged Glowancestre[6] with a great host of ten thousand men some reports claimed, others claimed fifty thousand but at this poitn if only a thousand men turned up the fear in the Saxons minds that they would be undone by a new combatant but Guthrum relished the three way parley of warriors.

Late into the morning of the thirteenth of May, after hours of fighting the worst had come for both sides, Anarawd ap Rhodri along with his brothers Cadell ap Rhodri & Merfyn ap Rhodri had arrived with 8,000 men gathered from across the Cymbrogi towns and villages for what was dubbed 'One last chance'.

The Danes & the West Saxons tried to dispers and fall back to their camps and hold firm and wait for the Britons to attack but they were not quick enough, with the three sons of the late King of the 'Welsh' charging viciously towards the two armies with venomous intent, the battle of Brittania was underway.





[1] Cymbrogi aka 'brothers, friends' an old term for a man of Cymru
[2] 'The Old North'
[3] Derogatory term for the English, derived from the world Saxon, similar to the scottish term 'Sassanach'
[4] OTL Anglesey
[5] Rhodri Mawr's royal house, named after their seat of power on Anglesey
[6] OTL Gloucester

 

[corditeman]

Mettle or Metal, boyo?

Or both?

This old Anglian is interested...

 

[WorldWarZ]

Or both?

This old Anglian is interested...

Mettle. There's a few spelling mistakes in there which I will find and iron out.
Thank you. I'm taking each post as it comes but with certain plot narratives I wish to hit. Hope you like the first two parts, part 3 may be up by tonight.

 

[WorldWarZ]

Part 3: A Tale of Foreboding Pt 1: The Prelude to Battle


An excerpt from the writings of Dafydd ap Llewellyn, written fifty years after the battle of Ethandun from his writings & chronicle ''Yr yn brydio chan Caerloyw'[1]

"As the Western Saxons and a few of their Mercna brethren engaged in open battle with the northmen of Jorvik led by Alfred the Wise & Guthrum the Old respectively, a new threat entered the fray, one whose blood could be traced back over a millenia and even farther to these very lands that these foreign hordes claimed for themselves and as their own.

The sons of the great Rhodri of Gwynedd, King of the Cymbrogi & Britons united as one charged into the fray with a great fury and passion built up inside of them and indeed inside all their brethren. The great host that welcomed them did so with sword and axe and shield in hand waiting for the princes to commit themselves.

Outnumbered by their enemies more than three times their number and more like beasts than men[2], the brothers and their followers carved a path using steed and foot and broke the Saxons' resolve and earned the ire and anger of the northmen.

Regrouping with one another the Cymbrogi began to flank their enemies, cutting off any form of retreat. Now it was heralded as by Cadell ap Rhodri, now it was time to rectify the mistakes their forebears had committed, to dispel the sadness thrust upon the peoples of this land.

And with that the end of an age that should never have been"

[1] The Burning of Gloucester
[2] Embelishment to make the Cymbrogi seem even more stronger

 

[WorldWarZ]

Chapter 3: ​

A Tale of Foreboding Pt 2: The Cat Amongst The Pigeons
​

The Cymbrogi's tactics of divide and conquer was a new one, the Romans had used the tactic aginst the native Britons centuries before and had worked triumphantly, with the Saxons & Northmen currently fighting one another and with the arrival of Anarawd & his brother's Cadell & Merfyn, the advantage was theirs, they could now split the two armies but that would cause them to face two enemies at once with both of them fighting back. ​

The plan was made, to systematically rush and attack the flanks of both armies weakening and demoralizing them time and time again before following it up with the footsoldiers of the Princes.​

Alfred had seen this threat and knew quickly what to do and so to the side of his forces he sent another shield wall to combat the threat whilst Guthrum blindly pushed forward against the Saxons trying to break the defensive line but to no avail, perseverance was an understatement, minute after minute the men of Jorvik clashed sword and axe against the shields and weapons of the Saxons whilst the looming threat slowly approached from the north.​

It was time. Just as the northmen broke through the defensive line of the Saxons and began hacking through them, the Britons on horseback thundered towards the masse of men, most not paying attention to notice the hundreds of horses thundering towards them, only fearing that a Northman wasn't going to hack him to bits in honour of his gods or that a lowly peasant was to send him to Valhalla rather than a mighty warrior. The Northmen made a direct line towards Alfred, the prize. The Saxons tried with all their might in repelling the madmen of Jorvik but it was futile.​

The Saxon king atop his steed began to bark orders to and fro, his men whom were primarily farmers and the like were increasingly demoralized by the swiftness of the Northmen's attacks, some tried to flee but were pushed deeper into the conflict. The king entered the fray personally as he witnessed the oncoming storm known as the Britons, knowing full well that Anarawd and his brothers were not to mess with but praying that they had not possessed or inherited any of their fathers skill in battle.​

The line broke. The horsemen stormed and broke through all of the ranks of both the men of Jorvik & of the West Saxons and in the ensuing melee the old warhorse Guthrum suffered a blow to the skull, a horse caving in his head but like a true warrior Guthrum even in his old age struck the rider with his last swing also taking the horse with him.​

The Northmen continued to attack as their numbers waned, the Britons followed up their initial attack with a follow up, the riders once again lined up and charged towards the field of battle only to part left and right as they neared the fray leaving the men caught in the fighting confused at their tactics, forcing them to push their men sideways to combat the lightning speed of the horsemen of the Britons. The footsoldiers of the Britons had entered the battle and despite bieng heavily outnumbered they were fresher than both sets of combatants and they knew it, luring the Saxons outwards so the horsemen could carve the lines up accordingly. The footsoldiers began to attack the broken defensive lines of the Saxons forcing many of them to fall backwards into one another and as such into the returning horsemen's third wave of attack.​

The battle raged on for hours, the forces of Alfred were at breaking point whilst the sloppiness of the now leaderless men of Jorvik was showing as their numbers more than halved since the forces of the brothers three arrived. Late into the evening of May 13th the battle was reaching its peak, the weakest of the Jorvik Danes had fled, as had most of Alfred's men, leaving only the strongest willed yet physically drained of the Northmen and Alfred's personal elite. The end had come, the Jorvik Danes knowing their day for glory was not today retreated away from the battle, many limping and nearly all wounded in some way, the glory of Valhalla had elduded them on this day, their shame would possibly be avenged.​

Now it was the turn of the good king Alfred of the West Saxons and claimant of ruler of the Mercne, surrounded by little more than a few hundred men up against a group of men eager to write ther names in history. It was as Alfred rallied his men for one last push that the Britons fell back to the shock of Alfred, maybe the battle had been too much for these mountain dwellers... out of the confused silence came a voice, not old or rough but young and smooth speaking in a broken tongue of the Saxons.​

"You have fought well. Faced unsurmountable odds my dear King, but your battle is lost and with it you are too. Surrender and no harm will come to you or your men and you will be dealt with accordingly. Refuse and you will be broken more so than you are now. ​

The night grows darker and as do your prospects wise king Alfred, the gogleddwyr[1] are scattered, their chosen leader lays amongst lesser men broken and battered, his life ended in glory. What will you be, a survivor? Or a fool?"​

The men of Alfred grew uneasy and many rushed towards the Britons, some in anger, others in surrender, all were slain as they stood by arrow & bow.​

"I will not pay fealty, nor surrender to you three outsiders... but I do request a truce, if only to delay a slaughter"​

The reply came swiftly amidst the sound of insults being tossed from one side to the other in their native tongues, in broken tongue once more a reply came.​

"Your request has been accepted, but only until the sun rises. If you do not accept our terms then you and your men will suffer God's vengeance for Rhodri Mawr & the Britons.. you will ride to us"​

[1] Northmen aka the Danes of Jorvik​

 

[WorldWarZ]

The Saxn King and his counterparts the triumvirate of brothers, Cadell, Merfyn & Anarawd met with one another in the rolling lands of Ethandun to make terms. Accompanied by two of the King's finest men as so the three Britons wouldn't make use of their numerical advantage, Alfred rode forward.

The terms were simple and put to the Saxon quickly, 'Surrender your title, lands that you govern and lands that you are claimant of herein and you may live your days in peace and safety and safe in the knowledge you and your people will not come to any harm"

The offer was rejected for the simplest of reasons, it was a lie. Anarawd was the ringleader and although he detested the man that Alfred was, he respected him for many other reasons, he had learned his adversary's ways, his motivations and he sought to implement them for his own people but he had to eliminate the Saxon first and foremost.

"What makes you think that a lowly Briton like you three will be able to force MY hand even in this state, you have me outnumbered here but in every direction there awaits a man of Saxon blood, of warrior blood. What makes you think you can take them even if you manage to take me?"

The colour in the cheeks of the Britons burned fiery red, angered and mocked they quelled their fury, if only just to turn a blind eye until they resumed their fighting.

"I see you are not a complete fool, but still a stupid Saes King, one more time the offer stands, you can go home, to the east, the 'borders' your people carved and dug no longer stand, you may keep your title, you may keep a resemblance of your kingdom, but you are NOT to claim those lands you currently rule or claim as part of your own. You are to head east and not look back. Will you wise King Alfred take this offer or watch as your men be cut down alongside you, knowing that YOU betrayed them?"

"That is a most gracious offer, but one more time, I decline. You have been most welcoming, but I expect to see your barbarian selves on the field of battle in a few moments. Your father my dear children would laugh at these demands if I had given them to him, he would've tried to stab me in the throat there and then. You are not as confident or as talented as he it seems."

The delegations parted, the brothers Cadell & Merfyn angered quite intensely by the Saxon king sounded for their men to charge the enemy as his back was turned and riding towards his own men a wave of arrows flew through the cold morning air and struck the King firmly in the left shoulder, dropping him from his horse as his companions rode on towards their now advancing men, the King of the Saxons was hurt, badly wounded, the arrow had embedded itself firmly in his flesh, if he survived it would take months of recovery to heal from this cowards attack on him.

Anarawd incensed at his brothers actions kept his men back from the fighting, knowing full too well that he wasn't a cowardly brute like his brothers had shown themselves to be. Instead Anarawd ordered his men to advance to the fallen Saxon king and secure him and hold firm as his brothers men wildly flailed around, killing themselves and as many Saxons as they could in turn.

The armies clashed yet again and this time it was for the last time, the brothers Cadell & Merfyn ap Rhodri cut their way through Saxon blood and bone only to be met cruelly in turn by Germanic rage, cut down by a counter attack by the men of the king. The only remaining son of Rhodri Mawr was Anarawd and he was concentrating on protecting Alfred.

The West Saxons only numbered a thousand and five hundred now whilst the Britons still had twice that. Fatigue on both sides was rearing its ugly head and so was doubt, both sides feared that one moment of lapsed concentration and that would be it.

Three hours after Alfred had rejected the offer of surrender to Anarawd the battle had ceased, with the remaining Saxons fleeing in droves as the commanders under Alfred either retreated or surrendered. The day was won, the farmers and county folk who made up Alfred's last stand were now either dead or running home to their families to protect them, the Saxons in the west were all but doomed.

Over to Alfred walked Anarawd who watched as the King was guarded by several armed men, the King had refused medicine from the Briton or his men and evensevering the arm of one soldier who under orders from Anarawd was there to help Alfred.

Anarawd knelt beside Alfred, the arrow firmly stuck in his shoulder still, blood trickling from the side of his mouth, it seems the arrow was not the only wound inflicted by Cadell or Merfyn's men, Alfred looked as though he had fought ten times as many men that surrounded him alone such was the extent of his wounds. The young prince of the Cymbrogi watched as Alfred's eyes met with his and in one last act of defiance and with all the strength he could muster tried to stab the young prince in the throat but it was not enough, the attempt was thwarted and Alfred lay against his fallen mount, bereft, tired, broken and weeping, he had lost not just a battle, he had lost a kingdom, betrayed his people and all the work he had begun years before was now falling down, a great reformer would see his works perish and wither now.

"Brad y Cyllyll Hirion... night of the long knives, I'm sure you know the name or at least know what it means. Hengist & Horsa, the two brothers who brought your peoples from whatever dark shores you came from to these lands, welcomed you were, guests and hired soldiers, nothing more, but in that age old tradition they slaughtered our kin, numerous leaders and nobles massacred save one they allowed to live, Gwrtheyrn[1] or as you now him Wyrtgeorn[1]. He was a fool. I am not. I know of your works and your plans for your people, do not worry, they will continue, but they will benefit my own kind and your peoples will witness and see the revival of the Brythoniaid[2], my Cymbrogi! Sleep well Alfred ap Æthelwulf[3] Sleep knowing you were a great king... just not great enough for this world."

And as Anarawd closed the Saxon kings eyes, he drew a blade and slit the throat of Alfred whilst covering his mouth to blunt the screams. Alfred was dead, the West Saxons were scattered and the Jorvik Norse were running back to the north with their tails between their legs but they were a beast ready for revenge but the day was Anarawd's, he was now the sole heri and conqueror in name of the Saxons and that he would not have to share the spoils with his brothers who would gladly turn on him and one another if it meant this much glory, a task that Anarawd did not relish but knew must be done was taken care of by his own foes.

The battle had started with the Saxons and Northmen clashing for control and had ended with the sole surviving ruler now ready to claim the mantle, King of the Britons & all before him.



[1] OTL Vortigern
[2] The Britons
[3] Alfred ap Æthelwulf, Alfred son of Æthelwulf, common usage in Welsh names.

 

[WorldWarZ]

(a very quick update.)

The remainder of the year of 878 and throughout 879 & 880 were spent by Anarawd carving up a succesful united Kingdom of his people but met by rebellious princes amongst his people who saw the deaths of his brothers and also of Alfred as a chance to seize control of not just the now leaderless provinces of the Cymbrogi but also in the lands of the West Saxons & the Mercna, although this heralded a shift in power in the south of the great island it also meant a greater threat from usurpers amongst his own kin and the now more enraged Anglo-Saxon fiefdoms with their own chieftains aiming for the the mantle of King.

In late 878 the remaining Jarls of Jorvik agreed to stop their raids on the broken Mercne kingdom & try to consolidate following the ruin and failure of Guthrum following the battle of Ethandun in the spring, with the Danelaw now unnoficially settled and the Danes now squabbling amongst themselves to choose a new King as swiftly as possible to stave off any possible kin strife amongst the Danes & their Norse brethren.

It was settled that the Kingdom of Jorvik be rule by one but governed by two lesser Jarls to combat the worrisome issues of the Northern Briton of Ystrad Clud & the Pictish hordes that also now seemingly gre more and more tenacious with each 'visit' southwards and also to deal with any possible incursions from the now fractured Saxons and southern Angles who pushed deeper into the eastern Norse kingdom of East Anglia which by 880 was completely overrun by refugee Angles & their Jute and Saxon counterparts.

The Cymbrogi began their campaign of securing the Wessex heartland by rebuilding Caerlowy[1] and from there using it as a temporary 'invasion' capital, to deal with the remnant West Saxon army and faithful retainers of Alfred whose body was taken to the fortress of Athelnay and given the Christian rites not before being engulfed in flames as the fortress was burned to the ground so no man could use the image of Alfred for his own use.

The heartlands of the Cymbrogi Britons were barely united with several princes and local chiefs ready to assume the mantle of King or Prince of their own personal spit of land, the real threat was this, if Anarawd succeeded in securing the broken remains of Mercna & Wessex would he lose the lands of his brothers and fathers in turn?

Throughout 879 Anarawd secured support from various local chieftains, Saxon & Cymbrogi to add to his armies, with the Saxons being given a great deal of autonomy for 'four winters' and in turn they were only to take arms up if they were defending themselves or if they were called upon by Anarawd. This helped Anarawd throughout the summer of that year with his 'reconquest' of Lloegr[2] & of the southern Cymbrogi principalities that bordered Gwynedd, Powys & Deheubarth.

In July 879 the now King Anarawd following his ascension to the throne after his nobles supported his claim to push ahead with the campaign against the remianing rebellious Cymbrogi & Anglo-Saxons it was feared suffered a fatal wound but due to extreme luck he managed to avert the fatality. The event in question was the attack on a small but flourishing Norse port founded in the southern principalities near the river Tawe.


[1] For those who do not recall, this is OTL Gloucester
[2] OTL England aka The Lost Lands

 

[OwenM]

This is excellent stuff. May Abertawe (OTL Swansea, for those who don't know names in Welsh) fall swiftly. Saxons and Norse, down on your knees before Anarawd Mawr!

 

[WorldWarZ]

This is excellent stuff. May Abertawe (OTL Swansea, for those who don't know names in Welsh) fall swiftly. Saxons and Norse, down on your knees before Anarawd Mawr!

Fall perhaps. Flourish most definately in some form. Another update after 10pm tonight after I finish work.

 

[WorldWarZ]

The rain lashed down furiously upon the shores of Gwyr[1], the men of Anarawds army numbered three thousand Cymbrogi with near five hundred Saxon 'recruits' in assistance followed the young Cymbrogi King as they marched through the southern principalities quelling any rebellion or putting down any local Princes seeking to make a name for themselves by extending their 'hands of friendship' with one hand and a blade in the other.

The year of 879 saw the majority of the Cymbrogi Britons fall into line with the new order, whilst some still presented themselves as independent rulers, these 'independents' swiftly set about allying with one another against any threat King Anarawd posed to them.

In the wet summer of 879 the army of Anarawd had heard tell of a small group of Norsemen who were settling along the southern coast of Gwyr, a move that was deemed nothing less than an invasion by the Norse. For ten days and ten nights the Cymbrogi marched west from their recently acquirred stronghold of Caerleon[2] captured in late winter/early 879. The weather had turned ferocious for several days, the roads to their destination became little more than bogs and makeshift swampland.

By late April 879 the scouts returned to the main army, it seems the Norse were occupying a small stretch of land at the mouth of the river Tawe, they were as much as could be seen nothing more than heavily armed traders led by a few Norse-Gael mercenaries. The resulting attack by the Cymbrogi was brutal, in the dead of night they approached under cover of the pounding rain and sound of thunder and lightning clashing. The small settlement that housed near five hundred people, many of them families perished with little resistance, their mercenary companions fleeing into the darkness towards who knows where.

The following phrase has been attributed to Anarawd but it is not sure whether it was said in any context

"Tis a dark deed committed by mortal men here today and committed by myself, but a darker deed to allow the spread of another illness of man to infest and plague our peoples once more. To allow one mistake that almost caused the end of our people and not take heed when confronted with another..."



[1] OTL Gower, South Wales
[2] OTL Newport, former Roman settlement

 

[WorldWarZ]

The next five years of Anarawd's rule were marred and celebrated. Marred by the growing violence between the Saxon majority whom began to suffer greatly under the Cymbrogi regents rule. Celebrated in turn through his expansion of his dominion and the subservience of his kin who although for now waited for their time, waiting for him to fall foul of them, waiting for a weakness.

The expansion of the Cymbrogi was not a rapid one, the displacement of the Saxons however was. As the lords and sub-princes loyal to the young king headed eastwards into the now shattered realm of Mercna & south west to the broken kingdom of the western Saxons, the reality for the locals was simple,they were now the second class citizens and they would suffer under the heel of the Britons despite Anarawd attempting to mould himself in the image of their now deceased King, Alfred.

At Glowancestre[1] renamed Caerlowy, the first attempts at rebuilding the city had begun, a sign of the intentions of Anarawd and his men who not only had broken the Saxons but now sought to eradicate not the Saxons as a people, but to take the best of what they had cultivated and adopt, absorb and alter the best of what they had for their own good.

In the north of the Isles the defeated Jorvik Norse began their 'isolation and consolidation' following the defeat at the hands of Anarawd. Their leader and great Jarl Guthrum the Old whom returned a coward to Jorvik and for his failure suffered a cowards death, many say he killed himself and others say he was slain as he slept, Nobody knows the truth and it will remain that way.

The remnants of the Saxon army and population began the 'great migration' towards the Eastern lands of their people and ultimately towards what was the Danish Kingdom of Anglia where the Norse-Danes had successfully supplanted the local lords with help from their Jorvik cousins, help that would not be so forthcoming now that vast swathes of people now headed for their lands, taking back what was once theirs and attempting a cultural reunification of sorts with their Dane cousins and also their Anglian brethren.

During the five years since Alfred's demise at the hands of Anarawd a series of reforms were passed by the King, the building of several forts along the border with the Danelaw to ensure the safety and validity of the Cymbrogi kingdom, not only from the vicious northern pagans but also from within the new lands of Anarawd from the bitter Anglo-Saxon remnants and also from upstart Cymbrogi princes. Anarawd also during this time promoted the arts and especially the myth of 'Y Ddraig Coch', the red dragon that symbolized the Cymbrogi people and their lands who awakened by the fool Vortigern's attempts to build upon the mountain in which it slumbered and now its glorious victory over the white dragon of the foreign hordes known as the Saxons & Angles, the King's propaganda began to spread across his domain, inspiring many to abandon their lands for centuries and head once more into Lloegr, to reclaim Mercna & Wessex as their own.

This policy of reclamation began to anger those Anglo-Saxons who not only refused to submit to the will of the Cymbrogi King but also challenged him, these opposing forces soon grew in number and began conducting raids across the land even striking into the Danelaw to stir up tensions between Cymbrogi & the Norse, these rebels would adopt the name Anglecynn, for they banded together the Anglian & the Saxon tribes much like they had during their intial conquest of the isles.



[1] OTL Gloucester

 

[WorldWarZ]

The Anglecynn.

Following the execution of Alfred of the West Saxons & the Mercne at the hands of King Anarawd of the Cymbrogi, his domains and those of lesser Germanic lords suffered greatly at the hands of the Cymbrogi lords and princes who now were granted lands, deeds and titles to any land they could claim in Anarawd's name. A move that would see severe backlash in the months and years to come if not dealt with swiftly.

Every hamlet in every shire was put under the rule of a specific Cymbrogi lord who had proven his loyalty to the king. Unfortunately the Anglo-Saxon population knew all too well what the defeat at the hands of their neighbours now meant, a fate that they had dealt to them centuries before was now coming full circle to happen unto them. Whole communities were uprooted and escorted to the east to remove them from what was now lands of the Cymbrogi king.

Many of the Saxons who resided in these towns opted to remain as labourers and as farmers, carrying on their existence, to many it seemed that although they would have the same life if Alfred were still alive, different rulers, same existence. Whilst others chose to fight back, many of these farmers were once soldiers and still had that instinct within them, they and their ancestors were a warrior race, the mere fact that their occupation was nothing more than a farmer did not detract from the killer inside.

During the summer of 883, in the fourth year of the reign of King Anarawd over the lands of Mercna & Wessex the first true signs of a united force emerged. Since the winter of 881 many had heard reports of small uprisings against the local regency. Farms and crops burned by rag tag groups of displaced Saxons who now seemingly held a united front. Other stories claimed that former leaders and lords in Alfred's army and even those who opposed the dead king now united to fight back against the twenty four year old monarch who with the isolation of the Jorvik Norse confirmed faced the threat of the resurgent and now united Angles & Saxons combining once again as they did when 'invited' by Vortigern in times old.

Led by various lords but none would assume the mantle of sole ruler, the Anglecynn as they soon became known began raids along the Danelaw border with the new Cymbrogi kingdom, even entering into Jorvik held land and raiding it dressed as Cymbrogi soldiers, tactics devised to instigate a war between the two powers. Many towns and hamlets began suffering the brunt of the Anglecynn's attacks, with many Saxon remnants either being liberated or executed for adopting Cymbrogi tongue and way of life, barbarism was the key to their resurgence and revival it seemed.

During the early Autumn of 884, the newly reconstructed fort town of Caerlowy was rebuilt in the fashion of the old Roman way, this would be the first of many 'Caer' constructed to emphasize whom now ruled these lands. The town of Caerlowy was attacked by the Anglecynn who burned the outlying fields and crops that autumn destroying the harvest that had been produced, a move that angered Anarawd who personally travelled from his temporary home in the newly established Caer along the river Tawe in Gwyr, making the long march accompanied by three thousand foot soldiers with several hundred waiting for further instructions at the old Saxon fort of Ethandun.

The ensuing battle was furiously acted put between the two sides, the Anglecynn who outnumbered the Kings forces by a few hundred were a tightly knit force who continued the legacy and reforms that Alfred had initiated within his professional army, unfortunately these reforms were enacted by Anarawd also who saw them as a superior fighting style compared to his peoples rush and attack tactics. As the two forces clashed a stalemate was fought throughout until several Anglecynn commanders pulled their men from the field of battle and retreated backwards, allowing their allies to be flanked. The resulting attack ended with the Anglecynn forces being cut down to pieces, nothing left save for the carrion birds to devour.

Anarawd had once again asserted his authority and enacted his next reform.

The Purges of The Saes[2].


[1] Castles.
[2] Saes = Saxon

 

[WorldWarZ]

Any thoughts ladies and gentlemen so far?

 

[FDW]

Any thoughts ladies and gentlemen so far?

Keep up the good work. (All I got, to honest.)

 

[WorldWarZ]

map of current territories of Prydain circa 884 A.D.

 

[WorldWarZ]

grey: Norse
bright green: britons of strathclyde/ystrad clud
green: kingdom of gwynedd & kingdom of the cymbrogi
pale green: kernow
pink: anglo-saxons
blue: picts
violet/dark brown/light brown/yellow: irish kingdoms

 

[WorldWarZ]

The Saxon Purges: Part One​

The Anglecynn faction emerged out of the hatred and anger and pain of their kind, the Saxons of Mierce & Wessex who didn't allow the Cymbrogi wave of settlers and rule to absorb them marched eastwards to Anglia where the Norse held rule tenuously over their Anglian populace, the influx of refugees resulted in a mass hysteria amongst the Jarls of Anglia who by now knew that they could not cling onto power much longer and fled to the Kingdom of Jorvik in the north of Prydain.

The various Anglian tribes, Saxon tribes and also Jutes from the southern shores of Prydain now began to work side by side, their culture and mother tongues virtually indelible, the need for a united front would not only be forged by sword and by blood, but by a common culture. The resulting front would come to be known by the name, Anglecynn. A common border with what the realm of Anarawd now claimed as his own was established although not accepted by the leaders of the Anglecynn, they knew they needed to assert their control over the local populace swiftly.

Leading the Anglecynn was a former lord in the service of Alfred of Wessex, his name Odda of Devon who pandering to the majority Angle council began his own reforms of this new society. Policies of xenophobia were passed, the population of the new society outnumbered the Cymbrogi but lacked military might.

Taking the title 'King of the Anglecynn', Odda began to launch attacks across the border of both Jorvik & the new kingdom of Gwynedd's land. The overcrowding amongst Saxons and Angles whilst Jutes & Hwicce tribes jostled for their own voices to be heard weighed down on the progress of Odda's new domain.

By late Autumn in 885 A.D., Odda have amassed a force of five thousand soldiers, many untrained individuals led by a core of soldiers who had fled the fight with Anarawd after Alfred's death, they now led the fightback.

Raiding town after town and even in the months before their march on their former city of Glowancestre now named Caerlowy, the Anglecynn sought to use fear against the Cymbrogi settlers, frightening them into retreat and submission, if that failed. Force, intimidation, rape, murder, arson. Anything to achieve their dominance again.

As the now numbering over four thousand, maybe five thousand Anglecynn emerged over the horizon and towards Caerlowy, the lords Idwal & Madoc, two soldiers now raised above their stations charged with the control and charged with governing the realms of Mercna & Wessex, a task proven more and more difficult with each passing year as insurrection and chaos seemingly returned time and time again in the form of the Anglecynn.

The reforms laid down by the advisors and the king of the Cymbrogi himself, Anarawd ap Rhodri, in less than five years had shaped and moulded the army into something new, something abhorrent compared to what came before. No longer were they a group of untrained angry men of the wild western hills and valleys of Gwynedd, Deheubarth & Powys. They were know efficient, they were drilled and precise, taking from Alfred of Wessex's own plans for his army, the bastardized plans of Anarawd now coming to fruition.

Using tactics long forgotten or no longer used by many, Roman shield walls ensuring a tighter front against any opposing army, tried and tested tactics for fighting barbarians and now reborn with the passion of the Britons. The men of Caerlowy, a mixture of Cymbrogi settlers and Saxons who chose to stay and commit themselves to the new order and way of life had trained in the new art of warfare, subduing local uprisings from the Caerlowy outskirts and even to the border fort of Llundain[1] and even being thrust into fighting Cymbrogi who in Anarawd's absence sought to usurp him and expand their own personal lands.

The men of Caerlowy numbered only two thousand strong but had the benefit of their training, their other advantage was Caerlowy itself, rebuilt in such a fashion to deter any attacker from evening thinking of launching an assault. Revolutionary in its design as two walls of wooden palisades meant that even if you broke through the first line, you would face another. Ditches to slow down the speed of which your attacker could come at you and finally the fort itself. Forged from stone and modelled itself on the ruins of the last conquerors of these Isles, the fort now stood as a crude attempt of Anarawd's victory over Alfred, a sign that both Wessex & Mercna were subservient and that they were now property of the Cymbrogi people.

"You think they will really try to attack us... some within their ranks know this area better than we do..."

"You would be surprised what someone will do for what they believe is theirs... alert the men. They get their first proper taste of battle, rather than the scraps we've been dealing with"

The day was the thirteenth December in the year 884, the Anglecynn now came closer to Caerlowy, knowing that they had but this one chance to take back Caerlowy and from there the rest of the isles they had forfeited following Alfred's demise.

Many other Saxon & Mierce lords had laid claim to the lands and titles that came with Alfred's demise yet none could attain these lofty ambitions save Anarawd ap Rhodri, other men also in the struggle used the chaos to further their goals, one man in particular, Doniert of Kernow, an aging man of great stature whose survival up until this point was fortunate following his miraculous survival following being washed away in a wild river torrent many years before[3]. He expanded his dominion also and invited many Saes refugees to come settle in his lands, many senior officers within the ranks of Saxon military life who now swore othas to him and many claimed that he was personally chosen by Alfred to succeed him.

The Kernowyon[4] people although extremely distrustful of their newcoming populace as they had suffered under the yoke of Saxon rule from time to time, they accepted their integration and took it upon themselves to absorb them into their culture, effectively watering out the Saes blood with that of Kernowyon.

The Anglecynn marched on Caerlowy in the dead of night, they had expected nobody to be alert at the fort, especially in the winter. They were wrong. The lords Idwal & Madoc patiently observed the oncoming horde of Anglecynn as they marched out of sync and like barbarians some drifted off ahead of the pack, seeking glory and revenge.

"They seem eager. Nevertheless. Order the men to light torches on my mark. This will be a great day for the King." spoke the Lord Madoc as he continued his viewing of the army of Anglecynn, led by none other than Odda, 'King' of the Angleycnn.

"On my orders, when the enemy comes close to the walls we will light torches, they expect this place to be poorly defended in the winter, they will not expect his majesty's finest legion awaiting them" Idwal barked, a man of more than fourty years of age, long red hair to his shoulders and a beard that you could lose a stallion in. He was the more passionate of the two brothers, Idwal was the cold, reserved and calculated man at arms whilst Madoc the fiery tempest that served to inspire.

"Are the men ready Idwal?" Asked a solitary figure in the distance, his face obscured by the darkness surrounding the fort, "Are they ready to die for their futures?"

"As much as I am my King. And much as I am they are ready to kill a few hundred Saes each!" barked Idwal back, the figure was the King himself, Anarawd ap Rhodri, King of Gwynedd & Deheubarth, Prince of Powys, leader of the house of Aberffraw & Cunedda and King of the Cymbrogi. The King looked at his men, who eerily in the darkness looked like ghosts clad in iron and animal skin, their eyes held a frightened yet determined gaze to them. It would now be kill or be killed for both sides.

"The army looks good, I have heard much of their work in recent months and indeed these past two years. Can they keep their cool now outnumbered by the Saes and their puppet King?" asked Anarawd as he observed the new Cymbrogi legions preparing their shields and weapons, they had turned a corner since the flawed victory they attained over Guthrum & Alfred, Idwal turned to face his King and merely replied, the tone in his voice echoing the thoughts of every Cymbrogi before him,

"If you had to speak to the people and tell them that their whole way of war was wrong and that if anything the enemy was right. How do you think that went down? Well?! No. They needed to see why we were stuck in those godforsaken hills for years. Why our ancestors every-time they won a battle they lost twice as many. We needed to adapt but try explaining that to these fools"

Anarawd stared at his men, not long ago many of them were farmers, other boys forced into conscription, and others were just simply townsfolk from across the lands of the Cymbrogi, Anarawd continued to listen as Idwal kept on talking, his speech about how fighting like the enemy worked so well against the enemy, they didn't expect to be fighting a well oiled fighting machine and turned up expecting barbarians, wild-men, berserkers like the Norse & Danes. Only after victories did they soon come around to the positive thinking of fighting like their enemy. Anarawd spoke only one more question before he took his place observing the battle,

"And the Saes who fight in your ranks... are they to be trusted"

Idwal looked confident, a great smile tore across his face, he had his reply.

"They haven't pulled a blade on me as of yet and you yourself spoke to one earlier as he held a sword. They are no more Saes as you or I now. They speak our language, worship the Lord God in the manner of our church. They were boys when we took them and now they are Cymbrogi, not by blood or culture... but through steel and fire and the knowledge that should their 'fellow men' defeat us, they will not survive their purges. They know it is kill or be killed"





[1] OTL London. Alfred the Great rebuilt Londinium as Lundburg, here it is a welsh outpost on the frontier
[2] Mierce, aka Mercians. I think this is correct, unsure.
[3] In OTL King Doniert/Dungarth of Kernow drowned whilst crossing a ford, here he lives.
[4] Kernowyon. Cornish people.