For days Neiton had told his brother Gwrast not to call him King until he had been elected by the clans convened from all the kingdom. Now that he had finally been proclaimed as the new Guletic of Alt Clut, Neiton was ready to speak. But it had not been easy to arrive to this point.
Once the news of Guletic Tutgual Tutclyd's death had spread outside the Rock, scouts from some of the clans around the kingdom had come to check the situation. Luckily nobody besides the conspirators knew that the Cruthin aggressors had been helped by Neiton's clan. Even the widows of Tutgual's sons were unaware of that, and Neiton had given instruction that they were treated with deference, as long as they were kept under surveillance.
Since he was the deceased king's oldest kin that had survived the attack, Neiton had welcomed the scouts and he had assured them that he was in control of the situation and that the aggressors had already agreed on terms: they had taken their spoils and very soon they would have left Alt Clut.
In the following days, one by one, the chieftains of all the clans of Alt Clut had come from every corner of the kingdom, each with their full retinue, according to the tradition, to pay homage to the late king and to gather for the proclamation of a new one. Keeping his word, just before the Briton clans started flocking to the Rock, Áedán had sailed his ships downstream, at some distance, in order to avoid any unnecessary clash. He had left his spies in Alt Clut, but that didn't bother Neiton, on the contrary: he needed someone to communicate to Áedán the outcome of the royal election.
Riderch, with Neiton's great relief, had not shown up, but Tutgual's nephews Nudd and Mordaf had. Mordaf, grief-stricken, had wanted to know how his father had died. Neiton had reassured him that Serwan had fought bravely at the king's side and that he had died sword in hand. Neiton had a vested interest in showing himself sympathetic, at least until he had been proclaimed as the new Guletic.
Then, the funeral rite had taken place. Many notable people in Alt Clut didn't sympathise with Christianity, and Neiton had not heard protests from the other clans about the Christian monks being banned from Alt Clut. Even Tutgual's family was still attached to the old traditions, so Neiton had no trouble agreeing with the widows of Tutgual's sons and with Mordaf that the funeral rite would have followed the ancient Brittonic tradition.
Through some merchant's contacts, they had even found a druid. Neiton had no idea where he came from, but he knew that some clans were still sticking with the old ways.
The druid was a gnarled, hoary old man, quite different from the image of the fearsome druids of the past, but eventually he had officiated the rite with a certain mystic aura around him, and that was all for the best. The bodies of the king, his brother and his sons had been laid down next to each other on a circular space at the top of the Rock, for everyone to see. It was not a good sight, some of the bodies were disfigured beyond recognition, especially Morcant's. But at least the gods had been benevolent with the living: the weather had been mostly sunny for a few days.
Neiton had never witnessed a royal burial, since Tutgual had ruled during all his quite young life. Neiton's father was not king anymore when he had died, and in any case Neiton at that time was too young to remember. As far as he knew, usually the mourning period for a guletic lasted several days, during which time the body was exposed in plain view, covered by a veil, waiting for the royal mound to be ready and filled with precious objects and ornaments to be buried with the body, for the travel to the Otherworld, while the family and friends were mourning the deceased with a ritual feast. Especially after what had happened, many people were shaken and had been expecting a glorious celebration which could bring at least some relief, and let the souls of the dead reach peacefully the Otherworld, assisted by the prayers of their loved ones.
But Neiton could not waste time: too much was at stake. So he had talked with many chieftains, reminding them that the Cruthin enemy was still on their lands: in that unprecedented and dangerous situation, Alt Clut needed immediately a new king. Almost all the chiefs had fully agreed on that. Only a few of them, including Nudd and Mordaf, had argued that they should have waited for Riderch to attend. But others had pointed out that if he had not showed up days after his father's and brothers' death, while all the other clans were there already, he had to be either dead or a traitor.
So, while the dead bodies were still displayed for the public mourning, the chieftains had gathered in the great hall.
If Morcant had still been alive, there would have been no contest, he'd have easily been proclaimed king and carried on the deleterious rule of his father. That danger had been avoided thanks to the risky but successful plan of the conspirators.
Since Morcant and his brothers Culfulch and Ardderchddrud had died, and Riderch, maybe fearing for his own life, had not showed up, the contest was therefore open.
The chiefs presenting themselves as candidates for holding the rod of power, seven in total, had stepped forward one by one. Mordaf, apparently too grief-stricken, had baled out of it and he had given his cousin Nudd his support. Nudd had presented himself as Tutgual's nephew and great supporter of the former king's family.
Other candidates had less appeal. Among the claimants there had been also a woman chief: she was a descendant of Guletic Dumnagual Hen by her mother's side.
But Neiton had the upper hand: he had boasted that his father Guipno and his grandfather Dumnagual Hen had reigned over Alt Clut, that he was a cousin of the lamented Tutgual, and that he had fought strenuously against the Cruthin invaders during the attack, having sustained severe injuries. He had showed them a bloody cut on his chest, which he had caused to himself with his own knife, planning to show it as a proof of a battle injury. Then he had bashed the aggressors and promised that he would have avenged Tutgual and the other members of the royal clan killed in the attack, and that he would have brought Alt Clut back to its prosperity.
Eventually, his only serious contender had been Nudd, who had received support from the clans more colluded with the former king, including those ones that would have liked to wait for Riderch to attend the election. But at the same time, Nudd was hated by many clans of the forest of Selcovia to the south, who saw him as a threat for holding too much power in their region, over which he had taken control making somewhat of a sub-kingdom out of it. The woman chief was at the head of one of those complaining clans.
Neiton already knew that, and before the election he had approached some of those chieftains, promising them that, if he had been elected, he would have restored balance in the power of the kingdom helping them out against Nudd's threat.
Thanks to their support, and of course thanks to the votes of the chiefs who had helped him plot Tutgual's downfall, and of their allies (who were unaware of the plot, but were traditionally aligned with the conspirators), Neiton had eventually been elected and proclaimed as the new Guletic of Alt Clut.
Now he was finally standing in front of a crowd of fellow inhabitants of Alt Clut, high-ranking people and peasants alike, who were watching at him in a state of anticipation. Not everyone was there. Nudd and Mordaf, grim-faced, had left with their retinue after the election, and some other clans had gone too. But Neiton didn't care: he finally could show himself as the new Guletic in front of the people of Alt Clut, already surrounded by guards who were there to protect him as their newly appointed king. And he was determined not to make the same mistake his father had made: after being in power only for a few moons, his father had let Tutgual's father come back and take his place. Neiton would have prevented Riderch from coming back to Alt Clut by any means.
"My fellow people", he addressed them. "I stand in front of you as your new Guletic in a tragic moment: many of our people have died or have been injured, many houses destroyed. Our lamented Guletic Tutgual and his brother and sons have died fighting for Alt Clut. But I will not hide my thoughts: it's also because of their mistakes that unfortunately we have come to this tragedy. In any case, that doesn't matter anymore. Now we have to fend off the Cruthin invaders!". The crowd roared at those words. Áedán would have not been happy with that, but Neiton had no intention of breaking the thin agreement he had with King Conall of Dál Riata: he only needed to show his subjects a common enemy in order to unite them under his command.
"Preserving Alt Clut and our traditions will be my main aim", he continued. "Many of us gathered here were born during Tutgual's long reign, or have very few memories of what happened before. During all these years, our ancient traditions have been slowly withering away. It's time to revive them!". The crowd murmured its approval.
"That's why", Neiton carried on, "I have summoned a Druid, who is amongst the few last ones still living on our ancient lands. I will now let him speak to you".
The hoary old druid spoke with a croaky voice: "People of Alt Clut, the Gods are watching us all, and they led us to this sacred moment". He was wearing a bronze crown and a plain withish tunic tied around his waist by a belt, and his face was covered in ceremonial paint, in the fashion of the druids of the past.
"Our deceased Guletic", he continued, "is waiting for the doors of the Underworld to open for him and his family. His actions, neglecting our traditional rituals and beliefs and letting Christianity spread through Alt Clut, led to the tragedy that has befallen us. The Gods have already repaid the bad deeds with his family's death as well as his own. But according to our ancient beliefs, in the face of the Gods his actions must also be cleansed through his remaining kin. So, before investing Guletic Neiton map Guipno with the rod of power, there is one last thing left to do in order to cleanse Guletic Tutgual map Clinoch of his mistakes and to let him and his family be welcomed by the God Araun in the Underworld. And that will also be a way for us to plead with our Goddess Clota to grant us her benevolence and protection once again".
Neiton observed the crowd: the people were listening in silence but from their expressions it was quite clear that they didn't deeply understand what exactly the druid was speaking about. Too much time had passed since the last time a druid had set foot on the Rock. It was kind of risky to wager that the people of Alt Clut would accept again the old religion, but Neiton thought it was worth it: first of all because his mother used to tell him that his father and grandfather were still supporters of the old traditions, and also because that was a way of distancing himself from Tutgual's reign.
Meanwhile, the old druid spoke to the guards: "Bring them here".
Morcant's widow and her two sons moved forward. Their hands were tied. They looked like they had been drugged, as was the common way in the old tradition, in order not to let them feel fear and pain. The two kids must have been less than ten years old. Neiton was grateful not to have children himself, otherwise he might not have borne what was going to happen. In fact, he had actually tried to convince the druid that Culfulch's and Ardderchddrud's widows, and their two daughters, should have taken part in the rite too. But the druid had been inflexible and he had asserted that only the family of the king's firstborn was essential for the positive outcome of the rite.
While some torches were being lit around them, the druid drew a blade from his belt and he held it over his head with both hands, looking at the sky: "Oh Clota, we beg you for your forgiveness", he exclaimed. "Please, Clota, grant your people once again your protection and benevolence! We perform this ritual as a gesture of goodwill, as we promise to help our new Guletic to bring Alt Clut back to the right path!".
Then, murmuring words that Neiton couldn't hear, the druid turned around facing Morcant's widow and with a solemn movement he slit her throat. The woman was so heavily drugged that she fell without a moan. Some assistants catched her before she fell in her own blood on the ground, and dragged her away.
Standing behind them, Neiton could not see the two children's faces. But he saw the expressions on the faces of the people who were watching the ritual: some of them were horrified, some were open-mouthed. Only a few white-haired men were watching with some kind of solemn approval. But even they changed their expression when the druid slit the children's throats, one after the other.
Someone in the crowd screamed, many turned away, someone fainted. Neiton perceived signs of disapproval on the face of some chieftain present in the crowd. Had the druid and himself gone too far?
The druid didn't seem to care, though. After passing the blade to one of his assistants, he faced the crowd, lifting his hands, and he spoke loudly: "The Gods have witnessed our plea! Alt Clut can count on Clota's protection once again!".
While the druid was carrying on with his sermon, Neiton couldn't help but notice that the crowd was listening to him but wasn't charmed by his words.
Had the people of Alt Clut really changed so much since their grandparents' times?
Neiton had succeeded in seizing the power for himself, against all odds, but now he suddenly understood that gaining popularity among his people would have been a hard job. Maybe restoring the old religion in Alt Clut would prove to be very difficult, and in that case Neiton had to find other ways to consolidate his newly acquired power: he was very determined, in any case, to never ever surrender it to Riderch.
And he started realising that the fight for power was not done, it was just the beginning.
