the berserker’s tale - part IV

The birds feasted at Aylesford on the flesh of both Saxon and Celt

King Horsa alone lying undefiled till claimed by Aeronwen's raven

To pluck out and feast on his unseeing eyes. - the Three-Fold Tale

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If you missed the first three parts you can visit the links below:

the berserker's tale - part I

the berserker's tale - part II

the berserker's tale - part III

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After Conall's disturbing admission, he grew silent again, and struck dumb with horror, my eyes filled with visions of darkness stretching from one end of the British Isle to the other. And so, we stood together without speaking againe for a long time.

In the quietude of my thoughts, I felt the fever of homesickness and resolved to quit this business and begin on the morrow my arduous return to Arecluta. And I dreamed too of returning to the green meadows of Ireland where every thought, every pang felt within the bowels of my being could unfold within its ancient language. I longed to see againe the lovely greens and golds of the buaile, where the heifers graze before milking or watch the sunrise over emerald greens, every moment filled with deep and profound meaning.

But my melancholic loneliness stayed with me as the sun slowly sank toward the horizon and I felt the misery of it to my core. When I finally recovered myself from my long revery, I turned to discover that my companion had wordlessly departed with the sowers and I was left alone before the torn earth of the upturned furrows in this strange pagan land.

That night when at my praying, I fell into a trance and beheld a woman whose eyes were penetrating and bright yet vacant with sacred blindness, her features marred by fulsome years even as a youthful and indignant blush reddened her cheeks. With a gaze directed scornfully at me, she scolded, Why dost thou lament? Hast not the armor I bestowed upon thee proved sufficient metre for thine spirit and fortitude for thy soul?

Why shrink and grind your teeth at the name of Fortunae? Have I not smiled upon thee more than frowned? Hast not Jesus said 'the Father makes His sun shine on the evil and the good and sends rain on the just and on the unjust?' Unstop your ears and open your heart, Giltas, and tomorrow I will open your eyes to the three-fold tale. Then you can begin your *De Excidio conquestu Britanniae.

And then the vision ended, I collapsed on the bed and soon surrendered to a hard and long sleep. In the morning, I awoke refreshed, thoughts of departing strangely vanquished.

I walked through the village to a small church standing under the shade of a yew tree, and entering, walked up to the altar and knelt to thank my Lord for safe travels and pray for His guiding light. When I arose an old priest approached and greeted me in Latin - *Deus bonus est, Pater. Nomen meum est, Pater Gareth.

Deus bonus est, Pater. Nomen meum est, Pater Giltas.

Giltas Sapiens? he replied excitedly.

Please call me Giltas only, I do not feel too wise this day. Since we stood alone in the church, I continued, Have you no parishioners?

Oh yes, those who yet believe come early for mass and have already departed. He smiled apologetically; I keep it short that my exhortation does not put them to sleep. Whilst good King Æthelberht yet lived the faith was much stronger.

A Saxon name? He converted?

Aye. Since I was raised amongst the *Cymry, he granted me passport to return to my home in Carmarthen and build this parish. But after his death, the fervor for Christ lapsed into worship of the Saxon gods, and the Christian's here have suffered for it though some few still keep the faith.

Did any here yet living fight at Mon Badonicus with Ambrosius Aurelianus? I am writing a history and desire to know more of the battles fought against the Saxon.

At Mon Badon? Some from Carmathen fought there, I am told, but that was long ago. Save for ancient Conall and the village *derwyddon none else yet live to tell the tale.

I have spoken to Conall, but he has told me little of value.

Conall was a berserker. If you wish to learn the pain of breaking off arrow heads and pulling the shafts from your flesh or what it's like when your shield shatters from a thousand fierce blows you speak to him. If you wish instead to know where the shield walls of Saxon and Celt met, how many men died and how one side turned the flank and routed the other you talk to the derwyddon, the keeper of the Cymry Triad - the three fold tale.

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Author's notes:

*De Excidio conquestu Britanniae - the history of the conquest of Britian.

*Deus bonus est, Pater. Nomen meum est, Pater Gareth. God is good, Father. My name is Father Gareth.

*Cymry - fellow countrymen - used to refer to the Welsh people.

*derwyddon - druid.