THE SAGA OF EUSTOGKARO HORSE-FACE (King of Spain 180 Years after Santiago)

[History Guy]

I'm starting a new episode now. Just three more left. The crown is nearly Eustogkaros!! Uh-oh...

[Aidun]

Magnificent! Beautiful! Hipe the next chapter shall be as good as the five previous!

Aidun

[History Guy]

6. Two more to come.
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From the skies, rain fell, pouring down in torrents, like the great gods weeping, nature releasing the waters from the heavens, the dome sliding open, the waters coming down to cover the earth. Dirt turned to mud, and roads were washed away. A storm brewed in heaven, trouble in paradise, the talons of nature sharpening to dig into the earth, but to renew it again, to wet it’s dry lips, it’s parched landscape. Spring brought such showers, but rarely in such power, with such ungodly force, a deep gale brewing. Not in a lifetime had such weather been seen, Spain was now bathed in this deluge of water.

The floods that came some blamed for the snows of the mountains of the Squidimark, the lying whiteness of Ghernicus’ Peak, where in winter it collected, and stayed for long months. The warmth of the spring had melted snows too quickly, forming a deluge, a dam bursting flood, rushing out into the fields, dispersing the flocks, washing away roads, isolated floods coming. The rain was far worse, reinforcement to the attackers, the rains giving more water to the floods of the season.

The year had died hard, and the winter had vanished slowly, but when it did go, it went with its vengeance. The King’s sanity vanished; his madness took over, a new mind filling his own, a tired, worn down, beaten, unhealthy, unthinking mind replaced it, that of a madman, a man reduced to savagery, stripped of his humanity, nothing left but bestiality, manhood stripped away and put behind, vanished, like a breeze in autumn as the winter winds come on.

Outside the Thane Hall towers, the gates of the city swung open, under a dark sky, filled with cloud and rain and lightning, bearing down it’s anguish upon the earth, the gods revealing their sadness, mourning for lost children. From the gates emerged two men, one twisted and elderly, shouting and screaming, wild-eyed, bestial, humanity in it’s most devolved form, more dog than man, yet trying to break free, to understand the world around him. His white hair hung down in matted locks, unkempt, hiding his face, making him look all the wilder, like a wicked old demon, or a wandering criminal. Beside him stood a fool, the King’s court jester, a man of wit and foolery, and most favored man of the court.

From a tower above watched a shape in black, a man tall and angular, death-like in his appearances, his skin pale and yellow, his eyes wide and bulbous, his thin bony features were like those of a corpse, of a man dead some winters, yet moved by some power, animated by some spirit. Weredur the Watcher, servant of the King, and servant of Ersgoth the Demon Lord, and the Prince, Eustogkaro Horse-face, stood on those ramparts, watching the two men below, one trying to stop the other, the wild man, who marched steadily forward, raving as he walked. The fool clutched the King’s shoulder, stopped him in his tracks, and turned him about, soaking from rainwater, pouring down from the sky, bearing down upon his body. They turned round, back toward the gates, the tall black gates, high and mighty, made of stone and wood, built to last the ages.

“Hear me, Gatekeeper, close the gates now. Admit nobody more, listen to none of their cries, for nothing they say is to be believed, dark demons claw the hills tonight, coming in the rain, trying to get in, to find a warm body, someone to rest in, to wait out the night,” cried Weredur the Watcher, all seeing spymaster, dark servant of the devils.

“I shall act as commanded, Lord Watcher,” came the response, a singing voice from the gates, the great rotund gatekeeper.

“My master will have his will done, the King will be broken forever. His health is already poor, this shall destroy it, this rainstorm conjured by hell. Until morning he shall wait before he can return it, for the gatemen are fools, they fear what they do not understand, a serpentine spirit with the body of the King, they would see it as a ghost, a terrible form to behold, they would lose their wits, and thus my work would be done for the evening. A new king shall arise, short will be his reign, fruitful at first, but unmercifully quick, then my master, the dark one, shall have dominion over this earth, he shall dominate all, man shall bow before him, the servant of the darkness, and the lord of the demons, the master of hell.”

Night passed into morning, and rain continued through the evening, soaking the ground, bursting dikes in the fields, eroding bridges, washing roads away. The morning was gray and cloudy, sun obscured by clouds, by rain carriers, relentlessly pouring forth their works, releasing water from the dome of the sky, to flood the world below, for the waters of the heaven cannot always be contained, and when they are opened, hard is it for them to be stopped.

The King was dragged in by his servants, the fool treading behind him, water of his own making pouring from his eyes. He knew that his lord and master was doomed, this rain would now kill him, his life crushed away under relentless water. From the thane hall of Heorot, the dark prince watching, Eustogkaro Horse-face, brother of the King, guardian of the prince, Enerotogo the Younger, a boy still as ever, subject to epilepsy, doomed thus already. Eustogkaro watched as the King entered, “Me thinks this is his last day, he can live no longer, his will and health broken, his body smashed down by water, flattened like the Vandals, overthrown like the Visigoths, crushed down by burden, by malady of the mind. This is his last day, than King shall be I.”

The King was taken to his father’s bed, placed in the center of the mead hall, draped in bear skin, the royal animal of Togas, the Lord Master of Spain, the supreme progenitor of his race, great and never to be forgotten. A pillow of duck feathers was placed beneath his head, and rugs of bearskin soon covered his body, mead was given to him, to warm his spirit, and outside gatekeepers hung from their gibbet. The Watcher stood by a pillar, where Eustogkaro sat, Weredur would not answer for this crime of foul manslaughter, for who would take the word of a mere gateman for that of a Thane Lord?

And so the King lay comforted, surrounded by friends and lords, administered mead and herbs, given warm soup, his body wrapped in warmest robes and furs, a roaring fire blazing before him, befitting the greatest of mead halls. The High Priest and his Assistant stood before his bed, administered him blessings, prayed for his sake, blessed all the gods. The King lay watching, his mind broken by illness, saying nothing, only drinking, watching those around him. And so it continued through to daybreak, till at last he died.

A weeping arose from the womenfolk, gathered round the bier, for the King had died unnatural death, too soon had he fallen, and sprung forth to join his ancestors in eternal feast. The rule of a king is to be a long one, but Enerotogo, alas, enjoyed no fruits of it, his reign cut short, his life mercilessly crushed away by the forces of angered nature.

“The tragedy is great to the people, me thinks,” said Eustogkaro Horse-face, in unheard whisper, to he himself alone, stalking behind his pillar, enwrapped in darkness. ‘There shall be great mourning for the loss of so promising a man, so brutally and foully cut short of breath. The people will embrace the prince as king in a motherly embrace; a comforting love for their sovereign will be gained. Thus also will they have love for his guardian, I, the dark prince, whom they hath mocked and ridiculed in past times, when they knew not their own fortune.

“I shall put it aside, me thinks, pretend as if it mattered not to me, that I am above such things, as I surely am, and that I shall be frank and kind with the people. Thus I shall win them over, for the people have too much heart to them, they love princes as I too easily. They shall be my subjects soon, and they shall know the will of their king, and they shall love me as my brother and my father, and they shall tremble. Ersgoth will seal my reign, my everlasting reign, without end, for men possessed have unnatural long life, they do not die unassisted, and with such powerful a spirit, who shall slay me?”

The following day the ceremony was carried out, the old king burned, and the new king was crowned, from death came the new life of the new sovereign, the new lord of all thanes, the master of Iberia, the Lord Emperor King of Spain, the overlord of the Visigoths, the flattener of the Vandals, to whom all men bow and tap their heads, for they are the representatives of the gods divine, and all answer to them alone, masters of earth and sea.

The new king was blessed, the gods were behind him, they loved him as their own, they bestowed their gifts upon his land. The ill harvests were repaid in full by the earth; new growth came up for the sickle and the scythe. There was now great bounty in the land of Spain, and all men rejoiced in the warmth of the summer days, vanquishing the foulness of the year before, bitter year round, where so many nobles fell unnaturally before the reaper’s scythe, to be taken to Valhalla, the Heorot of the sky, to feast eternally.

But all would not remain well in Heorot, the palace El Escorial.

[Aidun]

Still unsurpassed. Excellent, no other words for it.

Aidun