The Confession of Ethelwulf the Unbeliever, Last of the Pagan Kings
The abysmal gloom ... it comes and goes. Confined in this closed space; so poorly lit, no place for a King. A room in a high tower in the city of Newcastle, far from my home away to the north. A single slit of window high up in one wall casts little light, but it allows the sound of the tolling of the bells to awaken me from my dreams -- dreams that are more pleasant than the nightmare of my imprisonment. The gloom is always at its worst when those confounded bells ring. Why -- and why -- do they ring? They insult me, they mock me, they drive me into the depths of despair. ...
They give me bread and water to sustain my body, but better yet are the quill, ink, and parchment that sustain my soul. The pictures I draw are confused. I used to so enjoy drawing pictures. Is this one a castle? Is that one a ship? My friend Ro'rick is always silent and will not tell me which is which.
I was once a King, you know. And I ruled my empire with an iron fist.
Now look at me. Do you, too, my friend, mock me?
Memories are fickle, transitory things. But you will understand when I relate my story to you. I ascended the throne in 400 A.D., full of youth and vigor. Those heady days were filled with promise and hope. Alas, they have come to this.
We were then at war with the Romans. Early in my reign the English came to us and demanded that we honor our peace settlement and withdraw our elite forces in the region of Coventry. Desiring peace and prosperity, I acceded to their requests. Ah, but perfidious Albion! They immediately went and stole our honored tradition of Monarchy. I had no choice but to punish them. No choice at all. So said my Regent, and, "Fare south, fair Prince," said Andu Indorin. "Entrust the cares of the Kingdom with me."
In the proudful strength of my youth, I rode to Newcastle to wage war upon the English and to exact justice. I left the care of my kingdom to my ministers, and above all, that rogue Andu Indorin. Ah, how I rue that decision!
Upon my arrival in Newcastle in the year 420, I found English Phalanxes upon our border, so I dispatched a diplomat and the Veteran Archers to treat with them. To my consternation, these Phalanxes retreated to be replaced by Warriors. Nonetheless, my Veteran Archers won the day, and sent the English Warriors to an early grave. How we celebrated that day in Newcastle: our first victory! Little could I have foreseen how those proudful Archers would later betray me! In 460, there followed another great victory, this time upon the very edge of Newcastle, as my powerful Catapults destroyed a Phalanx of Englishmen threatening the very center of our English domain.
Victory upon victory in English lands followed. In 500 A.D., our Veteran archers withstood an attack outside of the English city of Warwick; victoriously they advanced to capture that city, seizing the local treasury. The English strategy eluded and confused me. Outside of Newcastle, English settlers continued to improve our lands, building roads and irrigating the fields. It smacked of conspiracy! I decided to await developments. Perhaps I should have been more aggressive against the English dogs....
Back at the Palace in Washington, all were conspiring in my absence. (Damned, won't those bells ever stop ringing!) My Regent had authorized General Morgan to assemble the forces necessary for an invasion of the Roman Empire. He promptly requisitioned many of my best and most loyal forces from Washington, D.C. and led them east toward Kenesaw. I disapproved of such a venture, but my complaints to my ministers fell on deaf ears. By 440 A.D. he had seized an abandoned fortified camp near Neapolis, and in 460 A.D. -- the very year of my glorious victory at Newcastle -- his Charioteers had defeated a Roman Catapult near Neapolis and he was leading the Washington Legion eastward against the Romans. By 500 A.D. he had assembled two Phalanxes, one Legion, and one Chariot upon the further shore of the Kenesaw Straits -- all while Andu Indorin's power increased in the capital.
The year 520 appeared to be one of good fortune for me; even as my forces captured the city of Warwick, Morgan was stymied by a Roman legion occupying a hilltop position that blocked his advance toward Rome. With great gladness I learned of his retreat from his advanced position. Even though in 560 A.D. his legion had successfully defeated Roman Horseman between Cumae and Rome, with Roman Elephants and Archers bearing down him, his doom -- and that of Andu Indorin -- seemed certain.
Now this is the point. You proclaim me mad. They say that madmen know nothing, yet I know everything -- every little thread of this conspiratorial web. Ro'rick here will vouchsafe me.
Little then did I understand the machinations of my Regent, the nefarious Andu Indorin. From the beginning of my reign, he had been authorizing expenditures to rush the completion of various economic ventures and often, it seemed to me, he arbitrarily adjusted the kingdom's tax policy. For instance, in 480 A.D., he axed the science budget and raised the luxury expenditures to fully 70% of the Kingdom's trade income. The next year he restored the expenditures in science to 70%. And they say that I am mad! Surely such actions are not only treacherous, but downright cowardly. To think that the resulting years of celebration in Boston, New York, and Washington were held in my, the King's, name. Bitter is the irony. Oh, you say that the boost of over 100 gold to the Kingdom's treasury by establishing trade routes between these cities would justify such recklessness. I say then, sir, that you are mad and not I. And Ro'rick here agrees with me.
Even more inimical to my memory was his handling of the Great Library. Nothing but a fiasco that. (Curse those wretched bells! Will they never stop!) Apparently -- or so the story goes, which I for one doubt -- in the year 420, travellers reported that the Zulus had nearly completed a Great Library. And that so-called Regent of mine did absolutely nothing to rush our workers into completing our own monument to civilization. Thus, by the year 440 all of our efforts had come to naught and the Zulus had their Great Library. For years, our great library stood there, naught but an empty shell. (Even now, rumors have penetrated the walls of my prison telling me that Zulus have just commenced another great project, a circumnavigation of the world. No doubt that wretched Regent of mine is in their pay!)
And what of his expenditures toward the exploration of lands to the East of Oxford? Apparently between 500 and 540 A.D., an expedition sponsored by this so-called Regent of mine landed to the east of Oxford and commenced exploring unknown territory. What did this accomplish? Apart from recruiting a pack of Elephants, discovering the English city of Liverpool and the Roman city of Ravenna, and making contact with the Indian civilization, this eastward exploration accomplished absolutely nothing. The money would have been better spent on supporting my military operations out of Newcastle.
Ah! There are those damned bells ringing again. It seems that every time I think of my former Regent, there are those bells mocking me, mocking me.
At least in 540 A.D., my other ministers accomplished one thing that seemed of some value to me: they encouraged our civilization to master the technology of Horseback Riding. In our English domains, I immediately commenced the recruitment and training of Horsemen to support my war against the hated English. That same year, my Veteran Archers commenced an advance on Oxford, arriving there in 580 A.D. Despite their victories over English Warriors in 600, and over an English Phalanx in 620, the venture came to naught. Badly depleted in these battles, these Archers were obliged to retreat back to Warwick. Desperately looking for a victory to boost the morale of my American subjects, I led my Veteran Horseman forth from Newcastle to destroy English Settlers. Thence I commenced an advance on York with a Veteran Legion supported by catapults, hoping to entice the English from behind their city walls. They failed to attack, and those walls seemed so formidable. In 640 A.D., frustrated, I had no choice but to return to Newcastle and await developments.
But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded -- with what caution I set about my strategy!
And yet, and yet ... In that very same year, and despite my fervent hopes otherwise, I learned of General Morgan's new victories against the Romans. Having retreated as far as the Lateran Hills near Cumae, in 640 a.d., General Morgan turned to fight. His Legion, his Phalanx, and his Chariots destroyed a swarm of Roman Elephants, Catapults, and Warriors. By 660 a.d. his battered forces had reached the safety of the fortified camp near Neapolis. There, in 680 a.d., his forces fought a desperate battle, destroying a Roman Legion supported by Elephants, Archers, and Catapults. Even on the defensive, General Morgan seemed ever the hero! Even in dire straits, his forces badly mauled by their preciously-bought victories and with Roman catapults overlooking his position, he arranged a cease-fire with Romans in 700 a.d. in exchange for declaring war on "our mutual enemies," the Indians. Indeed, he even tried to make peace, but the Romans refused, citing my so-called "ill-treatment" of the English. Fie! It is all lies, I say! A conspiracy between him and the Romans, no doubt. I never authorized him to make any settlement with the Romans; I tried to arrange his execution for betraying the Americans, but that damned Regent refused to forward the charges.
Andu Indorin had other plans. Even as Morgan was retreating from Rome, attracting the forces of Rome like flies to offal as he went, in 620 a.d., Andu Indorin dispatched a hastily built trireme loaded with a Salt caravan on a hazardous voyage toward Rome. Even as that traitor Morgan came to terms with the Romans, that Salt caravan reached Rome in 700 a.d., netting a profit of 248 gold. This Andu Indorin -- more concerned with gold than glory --promptly reinvested in more economic adventures aimed at the Roman Empire. In 740 a.d., after another "King's Day" celebration in Washington, a Dye Caravan arrived in Neapolis and garnered 184 gold. The conspiracy continued: that same year, Morgan's Legion and Charioteers were withdrawn from the Roman front! Even as I won yet another great victory at Newcastle, my mighty catapults destroying yet another English Phalanx, I began to fear for the ways of the past.
I have heard the voices of the Old Gods in the heavens and under earth. You think me mad? And yet listen, listen to how calmly I relate this tale.
At home, the world of the Old Pagan Kings were passing irrevocably away into the sands of time -- my legacy with it. And that damned druid of a Regent, Andu Indorin, seemed not to care. In 660 a.d., the first blow fell when, at the annual American Druidic Conference, it was proclaimed that but 12 Deities were worthy of worship, ushering in an age of Polytheism. And then, in 720 a.d., American sages articulated the first philosophies of the Republic, and these disturbing ideas began to undermine the venerable Pagan regime. That same year, from the profits garnered from his illicit trade with the Romans, an expedition of exploration westward departed from the recently founded city of Wulfschlagen.
Traitors, traitors all! Did they not see the dangers to our sacred beliefs that these enterprises represented? In 760 a.d., out of the west came word of the discovery of Monotheism; even as the kingdom slipped into complete anarchy, my subjects clamouring for a new government, this new religion reached out its fateful hand and harvested my subjects as with scythes through the harvest wheat.
And then the betrayals! First the English subverted my beloved Archers, and with them the Americans lost both Warwick and the Warrior Code. In 780 a.d., a Republic was declared in Washington, D.C. In Newcastle, I was arrested on baseless charges. I was sentenced and imprisoned in this tower, while my so-called Protector and Regent, Andu Indorin, did nothing to prevent this outrage to my person. It has been from here that I have witnessed the end of an age.
The traitor Morgan assumed command of our forces arrayed against the English. Quickly he exacted revenge. In 780 a.d., American Horsemen and Catapults destroyed two English Settlers and an English Diplomat, and a Veteran American Legion advanced on Warwick, where they withstood at attack by our turncoat Archers. In 800 a.d., Morgan's Legion and Charioteers, transported from Rome, destroyed the Oxford Phalanx garrison -- now antiquated in light of the American discovery of Feudalism -- and razed that English city.
Worst of all, the final treachery! Even as the study of Theology was discovered in lands to the west, as his final act as Regent of the Kingdom, that bastard Andu Indorin authorized the conversion of the abandoned great library into a Chapel -- under the direction of some miscreant named Michelangelo -- for the new monotheistic creed. Now those infernal bells toll from Cathedrals throughout every city of the new American Republic.
I am not mad yet! But those bells, those bells shall drive me mad!