Merlin

FOUR

No… no, listen Wolf, my mind is calm. I will continue:

Custennin was well disposed to the match. Gwendolau must have given his father a good report of my kinsmen and lineage. Indeed, he could have done nothing else. The joining of our houses would be to affirm honourable and long-established ties, something both Avallach and Maelwys were anxious to do as well.

The south needed the north, and needed it strong. The attacks that year-by-year drove deeper into the heartland invariably originated in the north; Picti, Scotti, Attacoti, Cruithne: these were all northern tribes. And the Saecsen and Irish, who were becoming bolder and more belligerent with each passing season, when they came, they came across the sea and into Ynys Prydein from the unguarded north.

But the incessant raiding was driving the few stable and trustworthy Britons north of the Wall back into the south – those that, like Elphin and his people, had not already left long ago. So it was becoming more and more difficult to hold the middle ground between the war-lusting north and the civilized south.

Without strong northern allies the south became more vulnerable than ever. Rome had realized this from the beginning, of course. The Eagles built the Wall – more a symbolic demarcation than an actual defence, although it was that, as long as the garrisons were manned. But the true defence of the south had been, had always been, the strength of the northern kings.

This strength was faltering. It is no wonder that the southern Britons had begun to look fearfully to the north as both the cause of their troubles and their salvation. It was to the benefit of both to form strong alliances, and there is no stronger tie than blood.

Kinship would do what the administrative might of Rome could not. Or we would all go down together.

As king, this was to be my work. I saw, perhaps more clearly than others, the desperate need for accord between kingdoms. The few and feeble attempts at friendship between the north and south, good though they were, were not enough. If we were to survive we would have to find and welcome ways of encouraging the northern kingdoms, and supporting them. This would mean putting away the petty concerns of rank and wealth, the small rivalries of small men, for the greater good of all. On this the future depended. On this we would stand or fall.

I began thinking of one great kingdom made up of all the smaller kingdoms, united, yet each independent of the others, and all contributing to the general welfare and security. Not an empire, nor a state: a nation of tribes and peoples, ruled by a Council of Kings, each lord with an equal say. This was important, for, if we were to survive the barbarian onslaught, it would have to be as a single united entity presenting one, unassailable front, not the fractious scattering of divided kingdoms – which is what we were.

I began dreaming of this great kingdom made up of smaller kingdoms. This great kingdom would be ruled by a single great king, a paramount king, or chief king – one elected from among the Council of Kings to rule over all. A High King whom the lower kings, princes, lords and noblemen would serve.

You might say, as others have said, that this was foolishness, or at best the idle whimsy of a self-important young ass. Better, they said, to stand tall and demand our rights as citizens of the greatest empire the world has ever known.

'Petition Rome!' they cried. 'We are citizens. Protection is our right, is it not? Send to the Emperor with petitions. Bring the legions back, tell him. Now that Maximus wears the purple, he will listen. He will not let us be burned and bled by savages.'

But Maximus did not long wear his imperial robe and laurel circlet. When he marched on Rome, as I knew he would – rather, as old Pendaran Gleddyvrudd had predicted – Theo-dosius, son of Theodosius the Conqueror, captured him and marched him into the Senate in chains. A few days later, Magnus Maximus was beheaded in the Colosseum. And it was not only the man that died that day: the dream of empire was extinguished in the blood-soaked sand before those jaded, jeering crowds.

Bring the Eagles back!

Yes, bring the Eagles back. Bring them all back, for all the good it will do. Is everyone blind? Can no one see?

Never did we shelter beneath the Eagle's wings. We were the Eagle. When the first Romans had laid their roads and forts across the countryside and then turned aside to other, more pressing matters elsewhere, who took up the standard? Who buckled on the breastplates? Who took up the gladius and pike? Whose sons filled the garrison rosters all those years? Who took Roman names and paid tax in Roman coins? Who raised the cities and built the great villa farms?, Was it Rome?

Oh, by all means bring the Eagles back. I would have them see how well the Briton wields the tools he has been given. For that is what we have always done. Rome left long, long ago, but we did not know it. Instead, we flattered ourselves, and were likewise flattered to be sure, that we were favoured children of Mother Rome.

Foster children, maybe. I will not say bastard children, for once Rome did look kindly on us, and from time to time sent her agents to help us look after our affairs – for a price, always for a price. Our wonderful Mother was always more interested in the corn and beef and wool and tin and lead and silver that we produced and paid to her in tax and tribute, than she was interested in our welfare.

Yet that was in the best of times, my friends. What do you suppose she thinks of us now – if she thinks of us at all?

The truth is a bitter draught, but drain the cup and we will find our strength in it. We are not weak; we are not bereft of hope. Our hope is where it always was: in our own hearts, and in the strong steel in our hands.

Yes, I began seeing the vision of a free people ruling themselves without let or hindrance from distant emperors whose hearts had grown cold; a nation of Britons ruling Britons for the good of all who sheltered in this fair land, high and low alike…

It was Taliesin's vision: the Kingdom of Summer.