‘My Area is riven with fear
after dread dirge sound heard,
People are pure distressed;
Every mind got right messed.’
Palmyredes nodded, poured drinks,
‘Warlike wave form function; sunk
population into utter fright –
those it didn’t drop dead outright.’
Cunedda took vital question pause:
‘Any idea yet what was the cause?’
‘Bishop and Bard, Druid with Witch,
for once united in their choice of it.
Old Island curse tale seems redone;
what we’ve got with is Dragons.’
‘I caught sight of wall bound war-witch;
I take it we have placated the Picts.’
Palmyredes, drink sharp down,
mounted up new fierce frown:
‘I’ve always considered leadership a craft;
Calm resolution of various vexations;
Considering that you’re completely cock-daft
I get to field fallout from your exes.’
‘I thought you were all OK
with my polyamorous ways!’
‘That’s all well and good now, mister;
except you went slept with her sister.
You need consider other’s honour more;
Else you’re a serial shagger like Caw.’
Cunedda, blinked; set internal pace,
‘I’ll tell you who else is in a rage;
perhaps got a letter from our Padrig?’
‘Letter? Yes – also a bishop and
family members to make a stand…
‘Forgive me; Dragons’ call affects us all.
But yes; the Picts have passage through the Wall.’
Beyond the wall, Gwair huddled in cloak.
Over scattered patches of last snow melt,
green robed wrath god rider came full pelt.
Face full of freckles befitted
her fate of crimson speckled;
the War-Druid, Llewei Saithwyn.
Seventh of the Nine guardian
witches of the Island of Prydain.