The Wren

The Wren

Madoc sat cross-legged at the outer edge of the gathering, soaking in the chants and exhortations of the druids standing in front of the oldest, and most revered of the oaks in this most holy of oak groves. As darkness encroached, the smoky light from the fat-soaked straw torches flickered, creating shadows that shimmered in the evening breeze. The almost leafless trees formed a skeletal ring around the clearing, forbidding, and in Madoc’s eyes, foreboding.

   Madoc was fourteen years old, not yet married, so not able to take part. His fingers tugged at the deer pelt enveloping him, it was meant to keep out the evening chill, but it was scratching his neck. He was sure it would leave an unattractive red welt. He stole a sideways glance at his betrothed, Morwenna, who was absorbed in the ceremony. He would liked to have put his arms around her, to give her comfort, twist her dark curls around his fingers, to give him comfort, but he knew he would never be brave enough. Instead, his fingers returned to his neck.

   “If things go badly tomorrow a red neck will be the last of my problems” he thought, “I can’t see any future, the wren sang to me but I won’t tell mother, she sets great store by my gift. Look at her now, all in black, hair ruffled like a mad woman. She has been practicing her shrieks all day, I was worried she would be too hoarse to scare a skittish horse let alone a battle hardened Roman. I wish Cai hadn’t arrived with the stories from Gaul. Sometimes, ignorance is best when there is little hope. I will fight tomorrow, I will, but I cannot help but regret that my chance of manhood is lost.”

   Morwenna turned to him with a look that suggested she had read his mind. Taking his chilled hand she placed it deep in her lap.

   “That will keep it warm” she said, a wicked smile playing on her lips. Madoc’s pulse raced, his cheeks reddened, he dared not return her look. He turned to listen to the prayers and supplications of the druids. As the chanting of his people rested his inner turmoil, he went over the events of the past few days.

*

   The island of Mona had been the home of his family for generations, it was famed for its rich soil and its copper. Of course, the copper attracted the Romans, but it was also a sacred island, the druids congregated here regularly to perform ancient rituals for the devotion of Mother Earth. Tonight, in the most sacred oak grove on the island they were here tp pray to Mother Earth for salvation. Until now Mona had been sufficiently isolated from the rest of Britannia, as the Romans called it, to live their mainly agricultural life in peace, dutifully, lovingly, respecting the laws of Mother Earth.

   The Roman invasion of the south-east of Britannia had concerned the tribal elders on the island but it had not affected them unduly. The druids were convinced that the supernatural forces inherent in all of nature would conspire against the invaders, for had they not performed their obligations; made appropriate sacrifices, bestowed prized gifts in the sacred waters, interpreted the chirruping of the wrens, and been constant in their devotions.

     It had come as a shock to most when the first refugees came seeking sanctuary, warning that the Roman army was marching towards their little island. The Roman Governor of Britannia, Suetonius Paulinus, was determined to exterminate all life on Mona, he saw the island as the epicentre of Celtic resistance, led by the druids, and then there was that copper, a magnificent prize. Cut off the serpent’s head of Celtic defiance and win a bountiful supply of copper to make their bronze weapons, two prizes all gained with the one action.

   Madoc had had his first portent of disaster when resting in this same clearing, dreaming of Morwenna. She had arrived from the south two days before, black hair, blue eyes, smaller than most of the girls her age on Mona. She was a beloved daughter of the chief of the Silures tribe. His father was pleased with the arrangement. Madoc reflected that she could have had the face of the backend of a donkey and his father would have been equally pleased. As it was, she was a beauty. She was two years older than Madoc, but that counted for naught. He was tall and strong, he was the chief’s eldest son, and he had his gift. He was ready to take on the responsibilities of a man. The chirruping of a wren caught his attention. Twisting round to see where the bird perched, an uncontrollable shiver ran through him, the sun disappeared, and the world went dark. Unnaturally silent and black.

   When recovered, he had returned to the village to be met by the news Cai had brought. The Roman Army was only two days march away. His mother looked to him.

   “Have you any news for us, son. If so, it would give solace and hope to all if you share it with us”.

   “No, mother, I have no news but I will share any that comes” he lied. “Why cause distress when I have no solution” he thought, “just my luck, I have the prospect of a lovely wife and I will not live to enjoy her.” Turning to his mother he asked what preparations were to be made.

  “There will be a gathering in the grove two days from now. As many druids as are able will gather here to make plans and seek the help of Mother Earth. There will be a grand ceremony. Your first.”

  “The boy will not take part, he’s not ready.” His father spoke from the door of the round-house. His bulk nearly filling the gap, causing the room to be filled with darkness, the smoke from the central fire, pale grey, curling up into the dome, faltered as the breeze was momentarily stopped.

  “But you will expect him to take arms and defend us nonetheless”

  “That is his duty as my son and as a son of the tribe, but it may not come to that. The soldiers must cross the rapid water that separates us from the mainland, it is late in the year, the winds are sharp, creating waves. They are heavily armoured, and their horses will not find it easy to swim against the strong currents. We have always revered the holy waters and paid our dues. Only last month I placed my father’s bronze shield and sword into Llyn Craig. The waters will not betray us.”

*

   Madoc was shaken out of his reverie by the warmth of Morwenna’s breath in his ear, taking his hand from her lap and holding it tight she said,

  “Come, shall we walk a while. This will carry on for a long time yet. The night is dark, we’ll not be missed.” Shuffling backwards on their bottoms they cleared the last of the onlookers and rose still holding hands. They had not spent time alone since her arrival on the island. His mother had kept an eagle eye on them both, making sure there was no ‘funny business’ as she called it. Their joining ceremony was to be on the festival of Mabon, when day and night were equal, a symbol of their union. Morwenna was a chieftain’s daughter, he was a chieftain’s son, their marriage would make both tribes stronger. Morwenna took the lead, she was a woman on a mission, for although Madoc was on the cusp of manhood, he was not there yet.

   They returned to the gathering in the early hours, pink and smiling, believing they had not been missed, but Gwenllian, Madoc’s mother had spotted them going and coming back. For once she kept her council.

   “Let them have this piece of joy, for if I read my son’s mood correctly, there will be little to have tomorrow.”

     When the horns blew their warning everyone massed on the shoreline. Some of the invaders had crossed in flat bottom boats that successfully manoeuvred the shallow spots in the straits, others had swam alongside their horses. They were strong and well trained.  The men of the tribe fought with whatever weapons they had, whilst the women, in black robes with their hair all dishevelled, screamed like the furies at the soldiers, racing along the rows, no thoughts for their safety. Many a soldier baulked at the spectacle and was injured whilst in a stupor.

   Madoc had been given a spear, for he was no swordsman and he fought like a demon. Now he had to protect Morwenna, for who knew what atrocities would befall her if they failed, he had heard Cai’s stories. He was nearing the shoreline when a searing pain swept through his body, he looked down to see his belly on fire. A flaming missile from a ballistae on the opposite shore had caught him. He knew this was his time. As he sank to the sand he heard the chirruping of a wren. A vision came; he saw a red haired toddler racing across the sands into Morwenna’s arms, laughing as she tossed him into the air.

When Morwenna found him, there was a smile on his face.

*

 The waters in the straits had run red with blood that day. Paulinus had been determined to finish the druids once and for all. Men, women, and children were slaughtered, no mercy was shown. Morwenna was hidden in their secret place, where they had finally united as a couple. She had food for a few days but did not expect to remain safe for long, she knew the Romans were too thorough to leave any stone unturned. But to her surprise they left soon after the battle. She later learned that Boudicca, leader of the Iceni has started a revolt in the east and Paulinus had had to leave.

She named her child Madoc, in honour of his father.