Good to see… good to see…
Old soldier’s fireside reverie.
Flame reflected career forms;
highlights, lows, huge losses…
Victorious Frisian evacuation
where enemy was rising nature…
returned to start of life’s adventure.
Palmyredes had no love of empire,
family memory meant knowledge; home
city’s complete cultural devastation.
Life lingering in conquered ruins, empire
leaving behind a legionary fortress;
limited options, military complicity:
best life choice to join their army.
Rapid competence, promotions,
led to distant danger posting.
Witnessed impassive war of
imperial Prydain’s last days;
Brittania broken – never more
to choke on Roman yoke, after
all Elen’s usurper antics.
Londinium’s river dockside, packed:
Scythian cavalry pennons flapped;
tapestried blue and yellow, white and red.
Multitudinous infantry flanked
last departing Roman magistrates.
bundled up gangplank, glaring hate.
Amlawdd Africanus’s stern mask,
Coel’s unconcealed fierce sneer,
accompanied army commander Mellt,
arm in arm with his Glaschu wife, [Glasgow]
who stopped surveying sky, declared:
‘Isn’t the weather so lovely!
Big hugs to Empie from me!
We’re keeping all the money!’
Mellt arm patted, cleared throat, deep blushed:
‘Well, we’ll be electing our own magistrates
from now on, chaps. Terribly sorry about that,
seems you’ve had a wasted journey. But we’ll
see you all safely back. Have to decline the
Emperor’s invite to go and fight the Goths.
Unfortunate — but best of luck with that.’
Plank up, whole dockside jeer-waved;
Tamesis’s current bore their boat away.
Coel posed Arcani style question:
‘Perhaps a random pirate attack?’
General Mellt shook head, sighed:
‘Quite enough Saxon shenaniggans
as is, let’s not increase that act.
Besides, they need to convey our
message; can’t do that if they’re dead.
‘Well, I’ll be blowed! Noon is past!
That’s quite enough work for one day.
Let’s all go and have a nice bath,
then it’s time for one great orgy!’
Cheers erupted, delegation strode,
though Mellt paused by Palmyredes:
‘Excellent oiling, Centurion, good work!
There’s a future in the army for you!’
Happy anti-empire days, optimism,
new dawn, new start; new trouble…
Rapid monetary economy collapse.
Then came the revolution, rise of
the prophet Myrddin, new forms:
then vicious inevitable counter.
Force resolved, years of peace,
all seemed settled, stable: until
political murder reappeared,
then terror screech disruption.
Past reverie shattered on present:
‘Good to see you, Cunedda.’
Rose from fire, embraced, back-pat.
‘How’s your operational area?’