Prologue - Part I

Prologue

I

Sunlight danced on the dampness of the forest floor releasing a musky sent. Through the quiet forest rode Urien, aware only of the scent of his horse. Around the sounds of forest waking met his ears like God’s own orchestra but deep in his own thoughts he heard only the words of his dying mother. Forgiveness, she had told him, was the way of Christ and must be his way. His father had also preached forgiveness, but his father was wrong. How could Meirchion forgive Mascuid, when this uncle had supported Vortigern and created an alliance with the Saxon heathens, it was unthinkable. It was true that Meirchion had not sanctioned the actions of either his brother or Vortigern, but neither had he opposed his wayward sibling. Instead he had scolded his son for suggesting such action; he had intimated that Urien was too young, to ignorant of politics, to understand.

Urien understood alright, the scourge of the Saxons was slowly working its way into Britain. Their settlements on the west coast infecting the countryside like pus in a wound, spreading out into the land, usurping good Britons with impurity of habit and belief. His father could not see that the coming of the Angles and Saxons was a plague, a pestilence from which one could not hope to escape unless action was taken. He said the Kings were planning, but they had been planning for years and other than a few minor skirmishes the blight on the countryside grew greater each year. Even Urien’s brothers Cynfarch and Elidyr, had conjured explanation and argument for patience, but Urien knew they wished only to placate their father over concern for agreement on inheritance. Fools! The winter of their father’s life would bring cold destruction to them, and there would be no kingdoms to inherit if action was not taken soon. At least he would have Gore, an isle he could protect even if all the rest of Briton foolishly yielded its birthrite.

Urien left his father’s hall under a cloud, as heavy in disappointment and betrayal, as it was in the loss of his beloved mother. He could not forgive as she had wanted, at least not yet; but mayhap he could show them the error of their judgment. If others of suitable stature were likeminded about the Saxon invasion then the older kings may be convinced to unite and take action against the scourge. He could forgive his father a single instance of fault, after all the priests told him brother should not take up arms against brother when both are loved equally under God. Maybe that was why his father was reluctant to take action against the wayward Mascuid; though why he could not see fit to at least enlighten Mascuid of the dangers that his treaty could bring on the Britons, Urien could not comprehend.

The barking of dogs alerted Urien to his surrounds once more. His horse whinnied at the sound, and Urien felt the shudder of its withers as the beast assessed the possible danger. The peace of the forest was a deceptive trap to those it caught unawares. Too easily could a rider and his horse be taken by the wilds. Bear still roamed some of the higher forested regions, and wolves and boar were plentiful as were feral dogs. The region through which he rode was void of settlement. Locals in the last hamlet had counseled a different route, avoid the Rhyd y Gyfarthfa they told him. Around the fire the men had alternatively told him of dragons, ghosts and Fay that inhabited the region and made the dogs bark. They joked of these with false bravado, of the deeds they would do if they encountered such apparitions, but when asked to provide a guide their audacity evaporated quicker than the dew had from the forest floor.

Urien felt a dragon would be unlikely. Such a beast would have great difficulty in negotiating the intimate arms of the forest. Ghosts he did not fear, as his belief in God told him that such lost souls sought only a way to Heaven and the arms of the Lord, not to harm those whose time had not yet come. Of the Fay, the Fair Folk, he was unsure. His mother had spoken of them as the original peoples. She said they were so pure and so at one with Gods earth that they were halfway between man and angel. She stated the Abbots and Abbesses of the land were the formalization of the spiritual care of the human soul whilst we resided on Gods earth, and that the Fay were responsible for the replenishment of the Lords land. The Fay women for the cycle of rebirth and renewal and the Fay men for the protection against destruction.

Father Ignatius held her beliefs as an anathema. He refused to give her the Holy sacrament on her death bed despite his role as spiritual leader of the hall; it had fallen to the local Abbess, who had ridden to the hold at great pace to render his mothers soul to the Lord. He thought his mother would probably have preferred this anyway had she been able to speak. She had hated Father Ignatius, and he her.

The man had affected his presence on the hall just as Urien was nudging at manhood. Ignatius was ordained in the Holy city of Rome, and Meirchion had welcomed the man to stay, despite his wife’s protests that the priest’s attitudes were toxic. Meirchion held romantic beliefs of the strength of the Roman Empire. He had grown up with the stories of Coel Hen, his grandfather the last Duces Brittanniarum. Stories of the glorious days when Rome had ruled Briton, when all had lived in wealth and when the threat of invading Saxons was unimaginable. Ignatius had told how the Celtic Christians had lost their way. Christianity had come to Briton with Joseph of Arimathea, but Ignatius indicated the isolation from the Roman Church had allowed it to develop in a manner that was contrary to the guidance of those whose word was directly descendant from the apostle Peter.

He preached that the Britons were over tolerant of pagans and women. The sanctions performed by the Abbesses was an anathema to the will of the Holy Father, for women were so tainted with the original sin that they could not possibly serve the spirit of the Lord on another. The idea that Fay women were God’s protectors of the Earth was abhorrent. Ignatius stated the Fay did not recognise God therefore any manipulation of Earth they performed was witchly and guided by the Devil.

Urien loved the devotions of Father Ignatius and the ceremony he had bought to worship at the hall, he felt the hall fill with the spirit of God when Ignatius led the devotions; despite this he could not marry this grand God with one intolerant of more than half the population. So he still visited the nuns and heard their stories of how God was in all the Earth, and he reserved his judgment on the Fay for the day they demonstrated either good or evil.

The dogs stopped barking and Urien’s horse blew gusts of hot air from its nostrils. Urien listened to the sounds of the forest; either the dogs were gone or they had smelled the horse and were packing for a hunt. The sounds of the forest were normal; then he realised they were not normal. Whilst the breeze blew, the leaves rustled and the birds sung; another sound hung in the air. The sound was pure, like the tinkling of a bell, as melodious as water running through the strings of a harp. Urien urged his cautious horse along. The sound increased in strength and Urien recognised it as a woman singing. The melodic singing was soon joined by the sounds of water flow. Tethering his horse to a tree, Urien dismounted and crept down the last part of the path to the location from whence the sound emanated.

The path ended at the side of a moderate sized fast running stream. The edge of the stream was haloed by a graying rainbow of rocks, and perched upon these rocks was the rainbow’s golden end. Urien stared in disbelief at the woman in front of him. Her build was so fine that it seemed to blow on her would make her break, her head was encircled with an aura of white hair, finer than the finest cobweb, her clothes were so strange he could not work out if they were cloth or flora. She was undoubtedly Fay.

Urien watched her through the Bilberry bush behind which he was hiding. The woman was washing clothes. After the stories he had heard from his mother about the magic of the Fay the task seemed too menial for her. The woman leaned towards the water to rinse the garment on which she was working. The shoulder of her flimsy gown slipped down to her elbow revealing her upper arm and the upper swelling of her left breast. Urien took a breath. A mixture of fear and lust came over him. Never before had he beheld so perfect a woman, he had to have her.

He moved back onto the path and walked quietly and slowly up to the woman. She turned as he reached her back, regarded him and then went back to her washing. He reached down and touched her bare shoulder with the tips of his figures trying to ascertain if she was real or illusion. She turned and looked at him again, this time her almond shaped eyes penetrated his. He felt as though he was falling into a still pond of deepest green, her eyes called him and he felt his lust rise in response. He knelt down next to her allowing his fingers to trace the line from her shoulder down to her elbow where the gown sat. She continued to watch him, neither encouraging nor accusing. He became bolder and extended his fingers until his whole hand rested on her arm. He lowered himself down to sitting, facing her with his hand feeling the skin of her upper arm.

He saw her breath quicken and watched as her partly exposed breast rose. He moved his hand up her arm and encircled it around the back of her neck. He pulled her face to his lips and kissed her full on the mouth. Her lips were warm and sweet to taste, but she remained unresponsive and unresisting. He reached over her and coaxed the gown off her other shoulder. The bodice slipped down her right arm and further down her left arm, momentarily held in modesty by her breasts before finally giving way and exposing her from the waist up. Urien drew in a breath as he beheld her torso. She was perfectly proportioned, her skin was as pure as milk and her firm rounded breasts beckoned him. He leaned into her, guiding her head down onto the ground with his right hand. He kissed first one breast and then the other, circling the softness of her nipples and sucking them like one would a ripe strawberry. She warmed slightly to his touch but did not reciprocate. He kissed up the middle of her chest, up her neck and over to her mouth. She groan slightly and her mouth parted.

He reached under her skirt and allowed his hand to trace up her warm thigh to her belly, then down to the place he wanted to be. She parted slightly for his fingers and he felt were warm dampness. He could stand it no longer, he tore at the ties on the front of his trousers and mounted her, driving his manhood into her warmth. His eyes were closed, he was lost in his own lust as he thrust into her body again and again. He did not see her look up at him or the furtive smile that slowly formed on her face. In youth he had not yet mastered any endurance and soon lay panting on her, spent.

He startled as she spoke; "God's blessing on the feet which brought thee here." He looked at her puzzled, she had not been responsive but she was not resistant, was she taunting him for a perceived violation or was she grateful for the servicing.

"Why?" Urien asked perplexed, withdrawing himself and sitting up.

"Because I have been fated to wash here until I should conceive a son by a Christian.”

Urien looked at her unsure of what to say. She had said not a word before they coupled and now spoke as though his unexpected lust had been ordained.

“I am Modron, daughter of King Annwfn of the Fair Folk. This is ordained; you will return at the end of the year and receive the boy.”

Urien was stunned. “Surely you know the women’s ways of herbs to prevent a child”. She smiled “This child must be, he will be more important that you can imagine.” She rose and pulled her bodice back up her body, straightened her skirt and turned to leave.

“Wait” Urien quickly stood up, he was further dumfounded by dispassionate manner in which she had told him of his impending fatherhood. Modron smiled at him “Go on with your quest, seek those who wish to rid the land of the Saxon, but ensure you return to this place a years end.” As he watched her walk away he saw her form fade, not into the forest, just fade.