Cenfus

The tale of Cenfus, successor to Seaxburh’s throne, is a tragic one indeed. It’s also very short, so luckily one doesn’t feel too bad after hearing it.

Born sometime in the 650s, Cenfus was the son of Cenwalh and Seaxburh. He had a troubled childhood, his father insane and his mother a tyrant. Things became much worse for the young prince in 659, when he was kidnapped by elite mudskipper assassins and brought deep into Wales to be brainwashed by the evil squid David. David, his years advancing and his powers declining, had come up with a plan to use Cenfus as a sleeper agent within the kingdom of Wessex. The young boy endured horrible torment, as all of the dungeon masters in Wales at the time possessed large pinchers. He fiercely resisted David’s manipulations, however, and the squid eventually lost interest in the poor boy. At some time during his stay in David’ dungeons, Cenfus fathered a child named Escwin.

Cenfus was to be executed in 666 as the finale of a grand ceremony commemorating the 30th anniversary of David winning the lottery. His luck finally took a positive turn, however, when the stage collapsed during the performance of an unusually hefty dancing troupe. In the madness and confusion that followed, Cenfus noticed that his cage had never actually been locked and was able to flee into the Welsh wilderness with his son.

After a full decade of hiding and hoping, Cenfus was able to escape from Wales and return to Wessex in 676. He quickly learned that his father had died two years before and his mother’s death had come only a few days ago. Cenfus was discovered by a group of nobles who promptly declared they had found the new King of Wessex. Cenfus’ first decree was to make 666 (the year of his escape from Wales) the luckiest number in the entire kingdom, then died suddenly from an aortic aneurysm. Cenfus’ reign had lasted 17 seconds, and his son promptly succeeded him.

Escwin’s first decree was to make 666 the most unlucky number in the entire kingdom.

Harthas Bird Prequel 3

The sixty or so Aviati that engaged Droigan's army had no intentions of resorting to unorthodox tactics, and indeed they had no reason to. Most of the human commanders were impaled in a few minutes, and the mercenaries fell into chaos quite quickly. An unexpected development was the difficulty the Wing-Demons had in killing the large, dark-haired man who appeared to be in charge of the mercenaries. Harthas Droigan was far more nimble than his size would suggest. One Alu warrior, after two earlier misses, finally struck the big man and was convinced he would fall. When she turned to confirm her kill, however, she discovered that Droigan was not only alive, but that he had returned her spear with alarming force. She was one of two Aviati warriors killed in the entire affair.

Harthas Droigan managed to survive the rain of spears and watched as the Aviati began their lethal descent. He later came to believe that the Aviati had grown fearful of his apparent invincibility, but a more likely explanation for their change in strategy involves their realization that Droigan no longer had any control over his soldiers.

As his soldiers were routed around him, Droigan found himself ignored for quite some time. It was only in the final throes of the battle that a Vwr fighter came across the solitary commander. A thrilling duel followed, with Droigan finding the Vwr too quick to assault and the Wing-Demon soon appreciating the human's brilliant swordplay. The stalemate broke when Droigan's patience and sharp eye finally rewarded him. The Vwr warrior lunged forward, and a quick sidestep and vicious slash from Droigan relieved the Aviati of much of his left arm. The Wing-Demon, Hafen his name, shrieked in painful rage and charged, but Droigan dealt his opponent a grave dishonor. He brushed past the outstretched talons of Hafen's remaining arm, grabbed the Vwr by the neck, and brought his opponent crashing to the ground. Hafen's skull was driven into a stone and the contents of his head spilled onto the battlefield. While the Vwr lay quivering, alive but dead, Droigan took a fistful of feathers and made an effort to scalp the bird. Unsatisfied with the defiling of his enemy, he hacked off the bird's remaining limbs, broke open its beak and pulled out its tongue. Hafen still lived, so Droigan began to drag the fallen warrior along by its eye sockets, but the bird died early in this final act of torture. This brutality would give Harthas Droigan the last satisfaction he would feel for a very long time.

Finding himself ignored again (the Aviati were amusing themselves with the men that had tried to escape back to Llamp), Droigan fled into the lower reaches of the nearest mountains and was able to survive there until a clear path to Llamp opened many days later. No other mercenary survived the battle. The Aviati returned to find Hafen's broken and ruined body in the dust. Had Droigan heard their cries of anguish, he may well have felt satisfaction again. The next discovery by the Wing-Demons, however, would have chilled the man's heart to the core. Though they searched long and hard, the Aviati could not find the corpse of the mercenary leader. Rudvas, mate of Hafen and a fearsome Alu queen, knew at once that it was Droigan who had defeated her love, defiling his body before fleeing. She took to the skies with a fiery wrath, but Droigan could not be found. Before leading her clan far away from the evil place of Hafen's desecration, Rudvas vowed to find Harthas Droigan, tear his asunder, and slaughter anyone protecting or being protected by him. This vow would later send the defeated mercenary's opinion of birds to a perilous low.

Starving and half-crazed, Harthas Droigan crawled into Llamp over two weeks after embarking on his expedition. While the town council was pleased that the raids on their convoys had stopped, the recently-arrived Otaceni Vozidel was far less impressed with Droigan's performance. Two hundred men had been brutally killed and the dried, feathered scalp Harthas presented to the general was not adequate compensation for such a devastating loss. Vozidel gave Droigan the courtesy of a day to escape before a bounty was placed on the former commander's head, but that was the last kind gesture exchanged between the former friends.

A day is hardly enough time for one man to escape an entire army, but Harthas Droigan was not harassed during his journey to the northern regions of Thot. This was due in part to Droigan's skill in avoidance, but Vozidel's mercenaries did not give a spirited pursuit; many of them still thought highly of the deposed commander. As Droigan traveled, his new distrust of birds developed into a bitter hatred. A call in the distance silenced his step, and a flapping of wings caused his sword to leap from its sheath. His nervousness, unpleasant as it was, would have paled against the dread of knowing that Rudvas, a winged angel of death, was also traveling north and did so with a thirst for revenge that could only be quenched by Droigan's dark blood.

Seaxburh

Seaxburh was the first woman to rule Wessex, and she is the subject of Part 9 in The History of the British Monarchy. Never before had there been such a champion for women’s rights, while her catty remarks about poor fashion sense stung the ears of rag-wearers across the British Isles.

Born into an aristocratic family in 626, Seaxburh spent her childhood the way any good Christian girl should. She skinned squirrels to make absolutely divine boots and cloaks, wrestled bears and bear-like men, balanced various objects on her head, and practiced a stand-up comedy routine based on the menstrual cycle. Her life was like that of so many other girls growing up on the southern coast of Wessex.

In 645, Seaxburh was enchanted by the cat-like wailings of a man trapped in an enchanted, sea-borne barrel. Throwing caution to the wind, she adorned her hardiest boots and cloak and pursued the barrel across the seas. She lost track of the barrel in the jungles of Africa, but was able to follow the stories told by the locals about a barrel-clad detective traveling from village to village. At last, in 648, she caught up with her beloved (this took place back before people had to know each other in order to fall in love) and learned he was Cenwalh, King of Wessex. She converted the raving lunatic to Christianity, married him, and led him back to his kingdom. Cenwalh retook his throne and Seaxburh spent many years serving by his side.

During the later years of Cenwalh’s reign, Seaxburh showed her true worth as an advocate for women’s rights. Unlike many later activists, Seaxburh did not want women to enjoy the same rights as men; she didn’t want anyone to have any rights at all. She wanted to turn all of Wessex into a unisex forced-labor camp. She ordered random executions on men and women without discrimination. She feasted on baby girls as much as she did on baby boys. In a way, she was also an advocate for gay rights; she raped everyone. In short, despite her enlightened views on equality, she was an awful human being and was horrible to be around.

Seaxburh’s biggest contribution to history came early in 674, when Cenwalh of Wessex finally passed away. Instead of passing power over Wessex to her son, Cenfus, Seaxburh decided to rule alone for a while, making her the first Queen of Wessex. She had technically been a queen while Cenwalh was alive, but now she had undisputed power. A few weeks into her solitary reign, Seaxburh uncovered a plot by David, the aging squid that lorded over North Wales, to assassinate her and plunge Wessex into chaos. Though she narrowly escaped this attempt on her life, Seaxburh died in mid-674 by falling up a flight of stairs and out a window. It is the first recorded case of gravity adopting an unusual strategy to kill someone.

Seaxburh’s reign as Queen may have been short, but it was significant nonetheless. She proved that not only can women rule as effectively as men, they can be far more ruthless, cruel, and incompetent. Seaxburh opened the door for many other matriarchal tyrants in Britain’s long line of rulers. She was replaced by Cenfus, who had been forced to endure the death of his mother and his father in the same year. If only he knew what was in store for him…

Harthas Bird Prequel Part 2

Two days into their journey, Droigan's men noticed a flock of large birds flying out from the looming mountains. Within half an hour of the observation, all but one of the mercenaries were dead. While they had indeed seen birds coming from the mountains, these birds were unlike any seen on Thot in nearly 2000 years. They were the Wing-Demons, as the trolls had once named them. They were the Aviati.

The Aviati are a race of beings that roughly resemble humans in build. They differ from humans by being covered in feathers and having talons instead of hands. Their heads resemble those of birds-of-prey, and out of their shoulder blades grow magnificent wings. Very little is known about the culture and language of the Aviati, as their venomous hostility towards all other races of the world makes them an unpopular assignment for diplomats. Their population is dwindling without known cause, but an Aviati warrior is unsurpassed in discipline, intelligence, and speed. History records many distant battles in which a few Aviati routed entire hordes of human barbarians.

The mysteries of the Aviati and their impact on history were not pressing on Harthas Droigan's mind as he watched the Wing-Demons circle above him.

The conflict between Droigan's mercenaries and the Aviati was the first opportunity in two millenia for anyone in Thot to witness the tactics of the bird warriors. Despite the reluctance of the sole human survivor to provide any analysis of the previously-mentioned conflict, a recapitulation of the dire event is here provided.

Before engaging the enemy, the Aviati force divides itself into two equal parts: the Alu, a heavily-armored group that begins the conflict as an attacking force, and the Vwl, a more reserved group that initially serves to supply the Alu. The weapon of choice in the first stage of an Aviati assault is a long, hardy spear that rarely breaks. The Alu swoop down on their enemies and release these spears with great accuracy and speed. Having thrown their weapons, the Alu fly up to meet the awaiting Vwr. The Vwr circle the battle at a height that makes them unassailable, and thus wear lighter armor than the attacking Alu. The Vwr carry many spears in quivers, passing them to their Alu partners when the attackers arrive for rearmament.

The victims of the Alu spear attacks are the leaders, messengers, and flagbearers of an army. An Alu warrior with a spear is akin to very violent poetry in motion, and it is not uncommon for their targets to die in agony, pinned to the ground beneath them. By the time the Alu have thrown all their spears, the opposing army is often in a state of disarray. The infantry and cavalry can do nothing but watch their leaders die, the archers struggle to take aim against the erratic and swift Alu, and anyone seen giving orders risks being impaled. Once an army is both disorganized and afraid, the Aviati begin their next assault.

If the Aviati decide that more spearwork is in order, the Vwr will quickly descend and collect as many undamaged spears as they can while the Alu provide a frenzied distraction. Having restocked their quivers, the Vwr return to the skies and the attack begins anew. If their enemies appear to be leaderless, both the Alu and the Vwr descend to begin their taloned attacks. The Vwr, all of whom are male, lightly armored and unarmed, rely on their vicious beaks and talons. A favorite target of the Vwr is the enemy cavalry, as a few kicks to the horse and bite to the head of the rider are stunningly effective. The swiftness of a Vwr fighter gives him the qualities of a sniper, and this causes the enemy force to scatter and fall further into confusion. The female Alu is better protected than the Vwr and tends to remain on the ground and engage in single combat. Despite wearing large, sharp-edged bracers on both forearms, the Alu warrior begins a ground battle unarmed. The Alu tend to target archers first, but the infantry will be engaged shortly afterwards. An Alu warrior will occasionally take up the weapon of a fallen opponent, but this typically done through boredom or a dark sense of humor. When the human army begins a full retreat, the Aviati seem to become frenzied, and any people who survive this onslaught are troubled for the rest of their days.

Penda

Welcome to Part 8 of our 85-Part series on The History of the British Monarchy. In this edition, we take a look at Penda of Mercia, a man who may have been more closely related to raccoons than he was to bears. He was the first man to barge in out of nowhere and seize the throne of Wessex (such behavior was frowned upon as being impolite), and he was also the first King of Wessex whose first name didn’t start with a C.

Penda was made King in his native land of Mercia in 625, though the exact date of his ascension is unknown. We’re also not sure how old he was when he became King; some say he was 20, others say he was 50, and still others claim he was 21. Mercia was a prosperous but warlike kingdom that occupied a decent portion of central England, and there was a history of conflict with the southern kingdom of Wessex that was far older than Penda himself. No one knows what started this bitter rivalry between two very similar nations, but a poorly-planned practical joke is suspected.

Penda was involved in a battle in 628 that saw Mercia lose to Wessex, though he may not have been King at this time. It’s possible that he entered the battle as a third party, though why a single man would choose to attack the army of his own country as well as an enemy army is unknown. No one is entirely certain who won this battle, but it seems likely that Cynegils of Wessex emerged victorious. The bitter taste of defeat did not sit well on Penda’s well-crafted, supple tongue, and when he did come to power he made plans to win his revenge over his longtime rivals.

Penda was very good at playing the field. He was not the most powerful king in England, but he wasn’t the weakest either. He viewed stronger kingdoms as enemies needing to be toppled and weaker kingdoms as platforms for his own elevation. In the 630s he allied himself with the Welsh to assault Northumbria, the most powerful kingdom in all of Britain at the time. Northumbria was quickly overwhelmed, but Penda withdrew his forces before the job was finished. The surviving Northumbrians and the Welsh continued to fight to a bloody stalemate for years, leaving Mercia secure along its western and northern borders.

In 645, Penda sent a magically charmed barrel to Cenwalh, the new King of Wessex. The barrel trapped Cenwalh and rolled into the sea, with Penda making a forceful claim to the throne soon afterwards. To lower the morale of his new subjects, Penda spent about 50 hours a week administering spankings. He laid down oppressive laws and enforced a dress code that bankrupted the rags industry. He did everything in his power to break the spirit of Wessex, but to no avail. In 648, Cenwalh returned and Penda, now suffering from severe Spanker’s Arm, agreed to leave peacefully.

Not much else is known about Penda’s life, but it is believed he died in 655 at the age of 50 (or 80, or 51). It is believed he died during a campaign against the kingdom of Bernicia, though it is just as likely that Penda was suffocated by the vengeful barrel he had sent into Wessex a decade earlier.

In the next edition of The History of the British Monarchy (which is what I’ve decided to name this 85-Part monstrosity), we will take a brief look at Seaxburh, the first Queen of Wessex and semi-pioneer for women’s rights.

Cenwalh

Cenwalh was the son of the first Christian King of Wessex and is the subject of Part 7 in the 85-part series on the rulers of Britain, England, and the nation of West Saxons that gave rise to England.

Taking the throne after his father’s assassination in 643, Cenwalh was instrumental in allowing Christianity to fully establish itself in Wessex. This religious tolerance is quite interesting, as Cenwalh actually started his reign as a heathen. Historians have explained Cenwalh’s tolerance through two theories: the first argues that Cenwalh was a very nice man and didn’t want to offend anyone, and the second suggests that Cenwalh was terrified of his Christian father rising from the grave to haunt him if the teachings of Christ did not spread across the country. Zombies were a legitimate concern in the 7th century (they only went extinct after the invention of the television), and thus most experts lean toward the latter explanation of Cenwalh’s behavior. Regardless, by 645 Cenwalh was the only non-Christian person in his entire kingdom.

Apart from fostering Christianity while not actually following the religion, Cenwalh is noteworthy for two other reasons. His first important contribution to history came in late 645, when he was sealed in a barrel and sent on a long sea voyage. No one knows what adventures Cenwalh had after he escaped from the barrel, but legends in western Africa tell of a barrel-dwelling man who traveled from village to village solving mysteries. More significantly, Penda of Mercia strolled right into Wessex and became the new king. Penda’s reign was interesting, but will be the focus of a later bloog. In 648, however, Cenwalh returned and once again laid claim upon the throne of Wessex. Penda left peacefully, and Cenwalh became the first man in the history of Wessex to be King on more than one occasion.

Cenwalh’s journey had greatly changed him. He had converted to Christianity during his absence, and his hair had grown long and difficult to control by simple combing techniques. He wore rags and bathed only when he fell into puddles. He spoke a language unlike anything anyone had heard before. He conducted all meetings and most ceremonies in the nude. He constructed obvious, flimsy traps all across the countryside. He began supporting Manchester City Football Club. He refused to listen to the advice of those around him, named over one hundred parrots as senators in his short-lived Avian Council, and outlawed the triangle. He was regarded in some circles as the greatest king to have ever lived, but most people saw him as a lunatic who has seen too much of the sun while traveling in his barrel.

Cenwalh’s second major contribution to history came in the year 672. In this year, he was not only the first monarch in the history of Wessex to share his throne with someone else, but he was the man who paved the way for the first Queen Wessex had ever seen. After many years of insane but effective leadership, Cenwalh divided his power in half and made his wife, Seaxburh, co-ruler of the nation. When Cerwalh died in 674, his wife took over the country.

So there you have Cenwalh, the 7th and 9th ruler of Wessex, famous for getting chased away from his own country and surrendering half of his power to his wife. In Part 8 of our series, we will examine Penda, the man who ruled Wessex as an outsider for three phenomenal years.

Harthas Bird Prequel Part 1

Heulog Fraan grew up as the favorite son of a general who had seized control of the Altane Hegemony after the previous ruler showed his weaknesses through a series of political blunders. When his father made his grab at power, Heulog was old enough to recognize his father's wise moves as well as his mistakes. Years later, when Heulog left his father's crumbling nation to establish himself as the Lord and protector of a distant, uninspiring piece of land, he made an effort to appeal to the interests of his new subjects. This land (known after Heulog's arrival as Fraan's Land) was home to a remarkable number of bird species as well as a dull, superstitious group of people who were inordinately fond of these avian distractions. Shortly after he declared himself Lord over the region, Heulog made a brief (later acknowledged as futile) attempt to establish a taxonomic catalog of the birds he technically possessed. Of all the projects Lord Fraan unwisely began, this bird census was the only one not supported by one Harthas Droigan. Harthas Droigan was an occasionally wealthy citizen of Fraan's Land and the only man in the region able to manage a profitable mercenary army. Droigan had, for sizable fees, helped Lord Fraan deal with various problems that had become difficult to control. Fraan's bird census was one such issue, but Droigan refused to become involved for any reward Lord Fraan was willing to offer. Droigan's uncooperative attitude did not reflect contempt for taxonomy or for the census techniques being used. Harthas Droigan just hated birds. He hated their feathers, he hated their beaks, and he hated their songs. This sentiment was not unjustified, as Droigan had endured a series of incidents involving birds that can only be described as unfortunate.

Harthas Droigan's relationship with birds took a sour turn over a decade before Fraan's Land became Fraan's. Droigan had recently completed a perilous and costly sea voyage and had endeavored to rebuild his lost wealth by embracing the life of a common mercenary soldier. He moved from the eastern coast of the Thot continent to its southern, more mountainous regions, as these places were renowned for banditry, barbarism, and short, bloody, expensive wars. It was here that Harthas Droigan truly began to understand the profit to be had in taking advantage of people.

Having no reputation, shoddy equipment, and a complete lack of military experience, Droigan was forced to begin his mercenary career as a grunt in the army of Otaceni Vozidel. When this army was paid to go to war, Droigan's job was to kill as many enemy soldiers as he could before being killed himself. For this duty, Droigan was given enough compensation to purchase a sword, shield, spear, and minimal armor. The rest of his salary was dedicated to keeping these items in good repair. Droigan was given bonuses for delivering the scalps of slain enemies, but this money usually went to support habits that, though unsavory, were difficult to break.

Harthas enjoyed mercenary life. He was good at killing people, and his skills at swordplay became so refined he grew exceedingly difficult to kill. He was popular among the other soldiers, and an earlier career as a sea captain had endowed him with charisma and an aptitude for leadership. The general, Vozidel, recognized Droigan's skills and popularity and began to give the grunt assignments that made better use of his qualities.

Within two years of his joining the mercenary army, Harthas Droigan was one of the senior officers under Otaceni Vozidel. During open battle, it was Droigan who was expected to bring down the opposing army's most powerful soldiers and leaders. When it was called for, Droigan would make gruesome examples out of resistant towns and villages. If there was dissent within Vozidel's army (and there was very little during Droigan's tenure), it was Harthas who inflicted the punishments. Vozidel even granted Droigan to the rare honor of commanding a small force when a job was considered too small for Vozidel's attention or acquiring more finesse than the entire army was capable of producing. Unfortunately, it was one of these small missions that nearly brought Droigan's career as a mercenary to a violent end.

A job was offered to Vozidel that involved hunting down raiders somewhere near a mining colony for a substantial reward. The colony was the property of a town that relied on iron ore as its sole source of income, though the ore was a high quality and the town itself was prosperous. Chasing bandits up mountains did not appeal to Vozidel nor did it require a full army to complete, so the general gave the assignment and 200 men to Harthas Droigan. The job seemed easy enough, but this proved to be an illusion shortly after Droigan's forces arrived at the client town of Llamp.

Droigan started to suspect he would not be hunting typical bandits when he heard about the victims of their raids. Not a single man, woman, or child attacked near the southeastern mountains had been spared and their corpses were often slashed to bloody, chunky ribbons. Another interesting aspect of the raids was that nothing was ever actually taken; the people transporting goods to and from the mining colony would be slaughtered, but the goods themselves would remain untouched. Droigan hated complications, and he was in a foul mood when he started his soldiers on the march toward the mining colony. It was on this march that the mercenary captain learned there were no bandits hiding in the mountains southeast of Llamp.

Cynegils

Cynegils was the son of Ceol and nephew of Ceolwulf, and in 611 inherited the throne of Wessex from his uncle as a mere 14-year-old. Wessex was in a confused state, as Cynegil’s father had allowed a decline in culture while his uncle had been successful in alienating every other kingdom in Britain. Adding to this dangerous mix was the fact that North Wales, a nearby region controlled by beasts of the sea, was undergoing dramatic shifts.

Less than a year after Cynegils had taken the throne, a rumor spread that David, the Squid-King of North Wales, had been killed by a pack of sperm whales. This rumor was not true, but David was conspicuously absent for several years before making a fiery, wrathful return. In the meantime, the people of North Wales were left to their own devices, and this eventually led to war with Cynegils and Wessex.

In 614, the armies of North Wales and Wessex clashed at what is now Brampton, Ontario. No one is quite sure how the two nations ended up fighting each other on a foreign, supposedly undiscovered continent, but it can be assumed that careless map-reading was partially to blame. Nevertheless, Cynegils was victorious, though it took several months for him to find his way back to Wessex.

Cynegils spent a good deal of his reign winning back allies that his predecessor had cast aside through needless wars. Interestingly, Cynegils was able to undo the damage caused by war by waging even more war. He won the support of Mercia by defeating the northern kingdom in battle in 628. He convinced the Picts that peace was the only way to enlightenment by catapulting several hundred Picts into the ocean. The Irish came to respect Cynegil’s peacemaking abilities after he threatened to dump a great number of rocks onto Ireland the next time it sank, an act that may have kept Ireland submerged forever (Ireland was geologically unstable at the time and went through a repeated cycle of sinking and rising to the ocean’s surface again). Under Cynegils, Wessex somehow managed to become more peaceful and more savage.

Christianity arrived in Wessex during Cynegils’ rule. We don’t know how well the peasants and other rough citizens of Wessex took to the teachings of Jesus Christ (most of them were Scientologists), but we do know that Cynegils adopted Christianity with gusto. In 635, just a year after Bishop Birinus was allowed to enter the kingdom, Cynegils was baptized in a ceremony estimated to have cost over one billion pounds. This baptism stood as the single most expensive religious conversion in the history of the British Isles for over a decade. There was some speculation that Cynegils’ spiritual awakening was in fact politically motivated and not a genuine religious experience, but it was largely agreed that religion had nothing to do with manipulating people.

In 636, Cynegils executed all of his non-Christian opponents, claiming they were godless and unholy.

In 637, Cynegils executed all of his Christian opponents, claiming they were insufficiently holy and were worshipping God in the wrong fashion.

In 643, Cynegils himself was killed in a forest during an ambush by genetically modified skunks. These murderous, foul-smelling animals marked the return of David, Squid Lord of North Wales and the demise of the first Christian King of Wessex. Cynegils’ legacy lived on, however, as Wessex remained a Christian country until the end of its days.

Ceolwulf

Ceolwulf was the fifth King of Wessex, inheriting the throne from his crazy younger brother Ceol in the year 597. Ceolwulf’s reign was far bloodier than that of his brother, and Wessex returned as a major political power through the battles Ceolwulf won.

While Ceolwulf did a good job of improving his kingdom’s standing among the other nations in the British Isles, he did a very poor job of winning allies. Wessex had long been made powerful by choosing the right allies, but this was a course the new King chose not to follow.

Ceolwulf regarded David, the squid overlord of North Wales, as a threat to his kingdom and his family, and he spent a great deal of time raiding the lobster farms (farms owned and operated by lobsters, not farms specializing in lobsters) that dotted the southern regions of North Wales. David’s power was fading as the 7th century began, but Ceolwulf’s raids were of little concern. Lobsters are perhaps the hardiest farmers in the animal kingdom, and the armies of Wessex were foolish to believe they could vanquish these amazing arthropods.

Ceolwulf enjoyed limited success against every foe he faced (and by that I mean he was able to win victories over everyone within marching distance) but his greatest glories were won against the kingdom of Sussex.

Sussex was a small country that had managed to be ignored since 485. Sussex was populated by peace-loving, socially reserved Saxons and Britons who had learned to put aside their differences. These people elected a council of elders and had decided not to become involved in the strife that ran rampant across the rest of the land. Sussex had become a safe haven for people displaced by war, aggressive crustaceans and cephalopods, and Irish people who had grown sick of their island continually sinking into and rising from the sea.

When Ceolwulf discovered that Sussex not only existed, but in fact shared a border with Wessex, he began to make ambitious plans. In 607, he sent an entire army into Sussex, one soldier at a time, instructing his warriors to pose as refugees. Once the army was inside, Ceolwulf struck. Sussex, having no standing army, was torn to shreds in a matter of days. Ceolwulf alone slaughtered the entire council of elders. Unfortunately, the economy of Sussex did not depend on currency, and there was no profit to be had in continuing to pummel the defeated nation. Ceolwulf returned to Wessex, having won the most lopsided victory in the young history of the British Isles.

The events surrounding Ceolwulf’s death in 611 are quite mysterious. It is known that David, in order to silence the protests of his lobster farmers, sent at least two assassins to remove the King of Wessex. It is also believed that Ceolwulf’s harsh treatment of the people of Sussex led to some hard, homicidal feelings among the vanquished peasants. The King’s stand-up comedy routine was very controversial in its anti-Pict content, so it is also possible that the Picts sent someone down from Scotland to permanently end Ceolwulf’s humorous rants. Nevertheless, Ceolwulf died from wounds that may have been inflicted by pinchers, knives, or Scottish fingernails. His nation was left in the hands of Cynegils, the 14-year-old son of Ceolwulf’s younger brother and former king Ceol.

Ceol

Ceol of Wessex is the subject of Part 4 in the 85-part series on Great Britain’s monarchs through the ages, and he is the first ruler of Wessex whose private life overshadowed his exploits as king.

Born in 584, Ceol won the right to be King of Wessex for a year after defeating his uncle Ceawlin in a game of chess at the age of eight. One year later, Ceawlin was murdered and Ceol’s claim to the throne was undisputed.

History has often seen children become monarchs through unhappy circumstances. A little boy or girl is sometimes spared the slaughter that hacks down the rest of the Royal Family, and this little whelp becomes the ruler of a nation simply because no one else with the right lineage is available. This was not the case with Ceol. As an eight-year-old boy, mere months after learning how to read and use the chamber-pot, Ceol duped his uncle into surrendering the Crown of Wessex. It may be the only time in history that a pre-teen, without any outside help, orchestrated the downfall of a monarch and established himself as the logical replacement. Any little boy capable of completing such a coup probably deserves to stay in power, and the people of Wessex were content to let things be.

Ceol’s reign, though short, was quite a bit more peaceful than those of the Wessex kings before him. The British Isles were as chaotic as they had been over the previous century, but Wessex had declined as a power and was no longer involved in the massive struggles taking part along the border of North Wales and deep in the heart of England. This inactivity at the international level was more than compensated by Ceol’s behavior within the courts of Wessex.

Ceol, being a child, quickly gained notoriety for making rash and unwise decisions. In 594, he outlawed beards and tried to open a chain of brothels. These decisions were made at a time in history when the only blades sharp enough to cut hair were found on swords, and Ceol’s beard reforms were met with fierce, stoic resistance. Futhermore, the men of Wessex had difficulty understanding brothels and wenches, and profit was hard to come by for young Ceol. His subjects saw him as harmless and even a bit amusing, so Ceol’s foolishness did not cost him the throne.

The biggest crisis Ceol faced during his reign took place in the year 597. David, the massive squid that commanded the armies of North Wales, had suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of Ceol’s uncle Ceawlin many years earlier and had planned a revenge that would both humiliate Ceol and cripple Wessex. A cuttlefish, whose name is lost to history, was able to imitate Ceol so perfectly that people thought that he was indeed the King of Wessex. The imposter made political moves that weakened the kingdom, and it was not until Ceol returned from an archeological dig that it was discovered that two kings seemed to be ruling Wessex.

The real Ceol and his doppelganger dueled in front of the nobles of Wessex, but the cuttlefish and the 13-year-old were deadlocked. Exhausted, both combatants agreed that there must be a better way to decide the real King of Wessex. Ceol (the boy) declared that both claimants should be shot so that the people of Wessex would never be led by an impostor. This selfless act led the nobles to make a correct decision about which Ceol was the true King, but this decision was made after both had been executed. The tentacles hidden under the impostor’s frock were also a giveaway.

With Ceol dead at the tender age of thirteen, his crown was passed to his older brother Ceolwulf. Ceol had fathered a child, but it was agreed that the older, more violent Ceolwulf should get a shot at leadership before giving the crown to the infant son of a teenaged madman and an unemployed harlot.

Ceawlin

Welcome all to Part 3 in our 85-part History of British, English, and pre-English monarchs. In this entry, we look at Ceawlin, son of Cynric, King of Wessex and a man who was both more and less than he seemed.

Like his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather before him, Ceawlin’s life before becoming King is not well-chronicled. He is named as a junior participant in a battle conducted by Cynric in 556, but we know very little else about the young man’s activities. In 560, his father engaged the squid David in single combat and lost, leaving Ceawlin as the third King of Wessex. Unlike his predecessors, Ceawlin’s reign is actually quite well-documented, but it is also rife with controversy.

On top of being King of Wessex, Ceawlin is credited as being the second king to hold imperium over the other Saxon kings in England at the time. This essentially made Ceawlin a Super-King, and his new title carried grave responsibilities. England was in a state of constant anarchy, with Saint David sending hordes of crab warriors out of Wales to help the Britons (the people actually native to the British Isles) fight the Saxons (who had come from Germany some generations before). Each Saxon kingdom was one lost battle away from being obliterated, and Ceawlin was now partially responsible for six of these kingdoms. On top of that, his own kingdom of Wessex was waning without the complete attention of its king. Simple Plan have credited Ceawlin as a source of inspiration for many of their most heart-wrenching songs. Ceawlin is known to have regretted not being perfect.

In 568, Ceawlin and Cutha (a mysterious, seemingly immortal being from the Netherlands) won an important battle over Ethelbert, the king who welcomed Saint Augustine to Britain. While this victory shows that the power of Wessex was greater than that of Ethelbert’s Kent, it raises questions about Ceawlin’s motives. Augustine’s presence would have distracted the monstrous squid David, yet Ceawlin made an effort to disrupt the activities of the man who could overthrow Wales’ tyrant cephalopod. The fact that David was responsible for Ceawlin’s father’s death throws even more suspicion into the actions of the King of Wessex.

In 571, Ceawlin silenced his doubters by winning four towns and 4000 ostrich hides from the Welsh in a bitter battle. This was the first defeat David’s forces had endured since the squid’s arrival in Wales in 413. In 577, Ceawlin and another Saxon King, Cuthwine (ancestor of today’s Ryan Cuthbert) took three strongholds from the British. Wessex enjoyed a greater sphere of influence at this time than at any previous point in history. Alas, Ceawlin’s luck was doomed to run out.

In 584, in another battle against the British, Cutha, the immortal Dutch bard, was slain. Ceawlin slaughtered many Britons and burned many towns in a rage, but he ultimately returned to Wessex a broken man. In 592, Ceawlin suffered a massive defeat at the hands of the British and was forced to surrender his imperium over the other Saxon kings. In that same year, Ceawlin lost a battle of wits against Ceol, his nephew, and was forced to surrender his kingship for an entire year. Three weeks before this suspension ended, in 593, Ceawlin was murdered by the vampiric son of Cutha and never reclaimed his throne. Ceol’s grip on power in Wessex was strengthened, and Ceawlin’s life ended with as much disgrace as it had begun with glory.

Another black mark on the later years of Ceawlin’s reign is the fact he was always mentioned in the presence of other kings, suggesting that the power of Wessex had sharply declined after the 570s.

Anyway, let’s forget about this somewhat regrettable king. He was succeeded by Ceol, nephew of Ceawlin and grandson of Cynric. Ceol would not do much in his short reign, but he was forever remembered as one of the most flamboyant men of the late 6th century.

Cynric

Welcome to Part 2 in our 85-part series on the monarchs that have ruled over Britain, England, and pre-England.

Cynric, the most magically gifted monarch in the history of the British Isles, was the son of Cerdic and the first man to inherit the title of King of Wessex. In addition, Cynric was also Cerdic’s grandson, and this is the first instance in British history of things not making any sense at all.

Like his father and his grandfather, Cynric’s early years are not clearly understood. There is mention of him fighting alongside Cerdic during a battle in 519 and against Cerdic in a boxing match in 522. Cynric was also winning awards for his poetry in 527.

534 was a very harsh year for young (possibly old) Cynric, as he lost both his father and his grandfather on the same day. On the positive side, he inherited the crown of Wessex, one of the seven or so kingdoms fighting for control of the island. These new responsibilities affected both the quality and the quantity of Cynric’s poetry, but his magical prowess reached unprecedented levels.

Cynric’s reign, much like his father’s and his grandfather’s before him, was one marked by almost constant warfare. Wessex was a kingdom populated by the West Saxons, a group of people who had arrived from western Germany shortly after the departure of the Roman legions in 407. Their arrival had displaced the Britons, who were the people the Romans had conquered a few hundred years earlier. The Britons, having only just won their freedom from the Roman Empire, were understandably upset when these German barbarians arrived and began wrecking up the place. This conflict between Saxon and Briton had plagued Cerdic’s reign, and it wasn’t doing Cynric any favors either. We know that in 552, Cynric won territory near Salisbury (though it’s possible he was actually fighting the descendants of the trolls used by his father and grandfather), and that in 556 he and his son defeated the Britons in a pretty big fight at what is now Barbury Camp.

Despite leading German Saxons against native Britons, it isn’t completely clear where Cynric’s blood actually came from. Thinking logically, he was leading Germans against non-Germans, so he would probably have been German. Germans have been known to elect foreigners as their leaders, so this argument is not airtight. Furthermore, Cerdic (Cynric’s father and grandfather) carried a British name, so it’s possible that the West Saxon tribe came to follow a king whose people were actually the ones being pushed farther north and into Wales. It’s also true that Cynric’s devastating knowledge of magic (spawning the legend of Merlin) would have been enough to give him control of whomever he wished. He recognized the qualities of the West Saxons of Wessex and elected to remain their King rather than try to establish himself somewhere else. The other six or seven kingdoms in England were all Saxon and no better off than Wessex, the Britons were in full retreat, the Picts of Scotland were invulnerable to magic, the Irish were too busy trying to develop gills and fins to worry about a magic-wielding tyrant, and the massive squid overlord of North Wales did not share power. In addition, South Wales did not exist at this time and was not an option for a wandering king.

In the 2004 movie King Arthur, Cynric is depicted as being a Saxon invader who is killed by Lancelot. In reality, Cynric and Lancelot maintained a cool, respectful relationship, and the second King of Wessex was killed in 560 by Saint David, the colossal squid (a description of the saint, not a classification as a species, see Colossal Squid) whose tentacles had wrapped North Wales in a slimy embrace of fear and tyranny. As the legend goes, David was so humbled and impressed by the Wizard-King’s power and skill, he gave Cynric’s corpse to the Irish for a burial at sea, the greatest honor a squid can bestow upon a fallen enemy. Unfortunately, Ireland surfaced shortly after this event, and Cynric had to be pickled and kept in a jar until the Emerald Isle sank again. The Irish could have walked him over to the sea and lowered him in, but that seems to be a little pointless when you live on a body of land that periodically drops to the ocean floor (as Ireland did at the time, see Cerdic). We’re also not sure why David wouldn’t have just given the body to Cynric’s son and the people of Wessex. Squid minds work differently from our own, I suppose.

Next in our 85-part series, we will examine the life and times of Cynric’s son, Ceawlin, who inherited the throne of Wessex (and another, quite powerful title) after his father’s death in 560.