A Future; To What End?

[Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius]

"Had you plans to return to Cymru? I admit, I have little but my family to return to, though this alone is reason enough. I wondered what your opinions were."


Eirian: The city wore the sunlight well. It was not long after the birth of dawn on the third day since Turas Lan had proven too might to truly take. When in total, 2,000 English had breeched the sanctity of her place in the world far less proved that the spirit was mighter than a blade lifted in hate. Still, nothing came without cost. A fable Turas Lan became so that the irony was in the city who's name meant journey's end a new beginning was being forged b: the determined. The dead were being buried, the debris cleared, and scafolding erected for the purpose of rebuilding roof tops and walls. The hustle and bustle below looked strange in comparison to burned out places. There were whole quarters, though, their place on the skyline still the same as last she remembered it. The difference was that the heart of the city was torn apart to feed the belly of the English beast. Whispers of repayment peppered the wind with a copper taste from miles away where there was talk of Edward III in the Tower of London. Wouldn't that be the day, some said? Ah but we are all prone to speak a great many things when the world is full of words. Eirian had become accustomed to an unusual amount of silence in the company of the Cisterians, whom favored it as a protest reflex to the noise assaulting their lives. One needn't speak to be heard. One needn't waste voice to make presence. The world could use the silently pious to mend it now, couldn't it? In an unaccustomed way the solitude on the farthers point of the city walls facing the hills and the sea was strange. It'd been weeks, if not months, bordering to years since she'd ever been alone. (d)

Meurig:: Meurig was the least likely to joing the Cistercians, but his time among them had not been put to waste. He had buoyed up the ranks, sorting himself out from his brethren, and owing much of his popularity to the mythos attached to his father's name, was humble in his advances. Outside of Wales, he was still young for an abbot, and he rather liked the idea of a slow ascension to power. It was fitting. It taught him the humility his first years among the white-robed men had not, and as soon as he embraced this, all the other pieces of the puzzle began to fall together quite appropriately, until it was difficult to imagine the Welshman as anything but the Abbot of Neath. That, too, was changing. The myth had expanded, and voices from Wales clamored for a new hero to stay at the side of their lady. It was enough that even Meurig, who had dreams of carrying more authority than his father had ever dreamed of for his seven sons,felt like running away. Instead, he took a walk with his men, and put them to work rebuilding. They were silent as they did so, unless it was necessary to speak, hauling beams and carting away rubble, working to restore the areas of the city they had just fought for and defended, and Meurig was no exception. Being somewhat older, he could have exempted himself from the manual labor, but that was hardly something Meurig would do. He helped with the walls at the castle until his hands, unused to labor, bled from blisters. He wrapped his hands in cloth, and apologizing profusely, went atop the walls to view the progress below. It certainly was an amazing view, moreso now that the city was in the dawn of its speedy recovery. *

Eirian: Cistercians were heirs of a determined work ethic. Eirian watched them living the gospel since the dawn when she had been among the women that washed both wounds and the bodies of the dead for burial until she could no more do so. In this light of a retarded afternoon and an evening that wouldn't admit it was so, the light made everything seem a little transient. Nothing lasted forever was a true phrase that detailed the golden time of city or reign, but many things challenged it. A peoplehood determined to rise to change. Places and things that survived the years to act as reminders of why they were put in place. By twenty-five, Eirian had not acquired all of the lessons. She felt closer than some, though, to finding sense in God's vexing infinity that made a bastard daughter an emblem. He placed her as a shepard so that she might learn from the Lord's favorite comparisons of staves, crooks, and leading. She embraced the Beautitudes and for her meekness was promised the earth with others. An Abbot and an unlikely young woman with artistry in her hands dawned armor and gave this day to Wales, too. A chance to rebuild without threat or loss. To make whole. She had lived underneath the armor made for the journey back a great many days, so that now beneath cotton chemises and overdresses of any shade, what was on her arms was no mystery. Yes, God did demand they suffer with dignity, and in dignity they were wounded. She saw him, but was not sure if he saw her. While no monk or none, she did well with them for having an inbred value of stillness. "Good afternoon, Abbot." d)

Meurig: The Lord had a fondness for shepards. And for working in mysterious ways. His father had been a shepard in Ireland before he returned to Wales to make right what the steward appointed over Senghenydd had made so horribly wrong. Meurig had picked his first sword up, like most boys, well before he could truly walk straight. The pastoral life was not for him, though he was content to watch it through his study window at Neath. Thinking of Neath now made his heart shudder in a frightening way. He had never felt his mortality so near as when he thought about the English ransacking the abbey that all of Europe took as its premier example of religious works meeting prosperity. Community and religion went hand in hand. St. Augustine knew this, as did Christ and his apostles. The Jews, too, knew community was the heart of religion, and to be isolated was to be cut off from God. For was not hell merely synonymous with being alone? A community of God-fearing, worshipping men and women who worked in harmony with the land lived the Word. He shook his head slowly and tried to clear the image from his mind. "Lady Eirian. It is always a pleasure to see you. I came up here to watch, but we may retire elsewhere?" Ever a gentleman, he allowed her to choose where they went or if they stayed. *

Eirian: "No words have ever rang so true, and how good it is to see you. How good it is to see, to be seen." On the slopes of Wales or on the hard, fast drive back to Skye Isle was when Eirian saw her life countless times come dancing before her eyes. Life was a treasure, was it not? A privelege and gift that ought only be ended by God. Why then, did man become capable of such atrocity when on the same hand they were capable of such good? For all the hellish fire speak and the thoughts on hell, it was a place deemed cut away from God and his love. "We can stand to watch if you wish, Abbot. But ask and we might go there." She reclined back against a stone and sat on the lower rise of the back wall. Tiny feet held in usual boots were in a place free of debris actually bare. Stained with dirt, it mattered little to her. "How fare you?" (d)

Meurig: He smiled and nodded. So they would stay. He turned back out to the city, glad he was in such a position to take things in as a whole. "I am well. Well enough." It wasn't in his nature to complain about anything, though he had worries. Skye had its Lord and Lady and would recover. Wales was bereft of such structure. With England in retreat, the Marcher Lords were the last authority left to their homeland. Though the Marchers had treated his family with dignity, they were not Welsh, and they did not know Wales as they did.Of course he worried. "Had you plans to return to Cymru? I admit, I have little but my family to return to, though this alone is reason enough. I wondered what your opinions were." Llewelyn would make a decent leader, but not on this scale. Seithfed would never be a Welshman again, and Meurig understood there were more lives at stake than either fully recognized if his brother Gruffydd made a return. Rhys -- Rhys would never do anything ever again. And Meurig was a holy man. He could not rule, not as his people expected. The Brothers were the last of the old dream, at least on this branch. But they were not without the power, with help, to install a government that could last, and give the people the stability which they had lacked since well before the Normans came. *

Erian: "That is good, Abbot." One would get a straighter answer asking a blind man if he would see. She'd seen meurig dirty, bleeding and tired but nothing seemed to say him from the religious indoctrination of a lack of complaints and dignified discomfort. She smiled a little, even at mention of Cymru. Did he note the pain creeping up into her eyes that was a soul's wound re-opened in the wake of all of their adventures? "To see that what should have been put to place is, if I can be spared to do so. I've heard that there have been men from Wales who are here now, who have accepted Lord Adam's proposals. Though to rule as close to ancestral bloodlines and the merit of that is what he seeks.so, finding truth in a voice in my stead..." No, even the small one could not give God that glory. Rhys was dead, Meurig an Abbot. Llwelyn was a litle crazed, and Seithfed was no longer Welsh. The Marcher Lords returned to their motherland. An infintile, faulty sort of freedom Cymru had now. How the people would call for them to rule, and if none of the brothers could, would they not look for the princess, whom had been their hope for the last few years? "No one should suffer as our people have, but it would be falacy to say unto them, and before God, that I have want to rule them." (d)

Meurig: "If we do not rule, my lady, who will?" Meurig turned to her then, his head ever so slightly tilted. He still had a full head of light brown hair. He did not shave his head into the tonsure, nor did he cover it from the sunlight, as most men of religion did. He had, after all, fought at her side. He had raised a sword and led his geurilla fighters down from the mountains where they hid from their English enemies. They both knew the realities of their respective branches of the family tree. Eirian had no will to rule. His family could not. "It would be cruel to leave them to their fate because we could not lead them a few years more. But it would be similarly unfair to demand of ourselves what we could only fail at. Let us give them a greater gift, my lady.Let us show them how to rule themselves. Let us give them a government that cannot be plagued by the right of primogeniture. Let us give them democracy. Or, if we wish to act in the true spirit of Renaissance, let us revive the councils of old. I have thought a great deal about this. I would be willing to serve a set number of years on this council, but I have a feeling my own political fortunes are about to turn for the greater. The Pope has word of my actions in Wales, and again here. We did not just save Skye, my lady. We saved Christendom's head."Let us show them how to rule themselves. Let us give them a government that cannot be plagued by the right of primogeniture. Let us give them democracy. Or, if we wish to act in the true spirit of Renaissance, let us revive the councils of old. I have thought a great deal about this. I would be willing to serve a set number of years on this council, but I have a feeling my own political fortunes are about to turn for the greater. The Pope has word of my actions in Wales, and again here. We did not just save Skye, my lady. We saved Christendom's head."Now that was amusing. He laughed softly, but quickly gained control of his mirth. "Llewelyn has seen and done too much in his years on this earth. It would be too much to demand he sit on the council, but I imagine he will offer. I would like to prevent that from happening, but who will sit on such an uncertain form of government?" Cymru's people were the most educated, per capita, of Europe owing to the monastic institutions. But they were still several hundred years away from holding anything nearing elections. Swearing of fealty to a new government, yes. But not of electing local representation. But which lords could be counted on? Could men be trusted to appoint honest judges? *

Eirian: "That is a question I have toiled with these few days, Abbot." Would she ever call him Meurig? It seemed a great disrespect to do so, for he had earned his posistion and was a far greater servant than the blue-blooded ever could.He could not even get away with calling her "Highness" or "Majesty" for God forbid she admitt her stature as even a queen deposed. "These are what we should give them! One day, Abbot, would it not be cause to fall to one's knee to see Wales assemble the likes of this? Already she is a bastian of faith, learning, and thought if only to cultivate her. There in you will find the men who will serve her. Their minds must not be so mired that they are unwilling to move" Several hundred years from holding election. Years from the structure of civility that accompanied any sort of government, be it republic or constitutional monarchy. Wincing, she held to her chest a moment while righting herself against the wall to comfort again. The talk of the Pope? It shocked her to silence. Chewing on her lower lip she allowed herself a softly laugh. "How far ouradventures have reached! Think you Rome saw the signal fires?" After the humor, with a hand still to her heart she sighed. "I have learned why my mother and father are of Cymru, and why I was born in that castle. Aye, even why my grandmother sold her soul and those of her kin to try and save her, even if power tainted her in the end. Let us look among the men that have come, and others that may do so. I would sit, too, upon such a council if mine husband thought it best.: Had Avaria stood, if call was answered, would they have taken to such occupancy? Talion himself said no man likes to be told by a stranger how to keep his home, and that was true, yet how they follwed Adam! He was more than silver tongued. He lived it (d)

Meurig: He nodded. "I hope that they did not, or I doubt we will have a chance to entertain His Holiness again. But from his perspective, I doubt this is seen as a bad thing." A light smile before he turned his gaze back out to the city. "Cymru is home to great minds, my lady. Capable of ruling, of dispensing justice, of loving the land. They could be stewards under the High Lord, and never again will we have cause to stock our monasteries with armorers and warriors. Cymru is ready to stand on her own. She has been for generations. Where other countries, notably Ireland and Scotland, have been split wondering which soul would unite them and lead them to freedom, Wales has only ever desired freedom. The man wearing the crown is inconsequential, for all their talk of saints and kings. For this reason alone, I should not worry so much. But confidence, she lacks, for she has not had a king in many years.Perhaps this will make our way easier. Then we may fade way from the history books, and pray God has no more momentous tasks to set before us. I am old, my lady." *

Eirian: "You are not so old as not be spry, nor are you so old that you do not have the passion and vigor of a young man." If he suffered silently, God might allow him acceptance of a compliment. Nodding her head she believed in his wordsand thought long on this. Her steps to the front wall from the back were graceful, only a few despite the pain wracking her body. What person wasn't in pain? Far be it from her to say a thing on what was plain and noticeable. Looking down on the reconstruction she said, "We shall find these great minds from each of the provinces to make the council, among them we shall leave those entrusted with our voices. We may never sit on thrones or march beneath banners again, but in us is where they draw their faith. It would be unfair to never look upon that..So we may show them, what we know. If you feel you are too old to speak then for a time, I will speak for you. I am only tired, not old." She found a little reassurance in that, were it not forever? Then at least they might make impression that lasted longer and better than the reign of the weary. Talion would have no heart for such task either, and if he did, it would be in the land he was forced to leave. Eirian went over to Meurig, putting a hand gently to his forearm. (d)

Meurig: He smiled in return and rested a hand upon her own. "Maybe I am only tired. Let us rest on it, then we may form our plans more thoroughly. I would like to have the High Lord's word on such matters, for it is not for us entirely to decide the fate of Cymru. But yes, we should rule for ourselves, we should have our own nation once again, and if I do not know how this is to happen, I know that it must. Thank you, my lady. Your strength is no slight force." He glanced down at her. Like all of his brothers, he was rather tall, though not excessively so. She, being so small, made him feel giantesque. "Perhaps we all feel old these days, but if this city rebuilds itself with such speed and enthusiasm -- " he laughed, breaking off the thought with the sound. "We have no excuse." *