authorjeffbaker

How Gruffudd yn Aur Walked A Road No Man Dared Tread

by Jeff Baker

The Chronicles relate many adventures of the bold knight Gruffudd yn Aur in the early days of his journey North from Camelot. It was when he was lodged in the small village of —- for the night and had to rebuff the advances of both comely women and men (the latter being more to his liking but he had a quest) who sought a dalliance with the knight.

In the morning he asked for the quickest route to his destination.

“The road that runs through town will wind around and get you there in a few days,” the Innkeeper said. “Of course, there is the old Roman Highway that cuts across the marshes instead of around them. But the Roman road has been forsaken and overgrown because of…” Here the Innkeeper looked around the tables at the Inn where a few customers were sitting eating breakfast. He lowered his voice and said: “Pilosus Stranentum.”

“Pilosus Stranentum?” Sir Gruffudd repeated.

Customers looked up and around.

“Yes,” the Innkeeper said. “So nobody uses the old Roman Highway. No one has for over a century.”

“But what is it, this Pilos…” Sir Gruffudd started to say.

“Nothing a knight or an army of armored knights should dare face.” said the Innkeeper.

Sir Gruffudd thanked and paid the Inkeeper. Then he went to the stables and recovered his horse, Stout Oak, reflecting that the stables would have been more comfortable than the rooms of the Inn. And of course, the readers of these Chronicles know which road they chose to travel.

Sir Gruffudd took note of the weeds growing out of the road but also of the firmly-laid stones which Roman engineers had lain there centuries ago.

“Stout Oak, I would say these stones are as sturdy as the day they were first placed here. And the land to the sides is sandy and overgrown. Methinks we shall be coming across marshlands soon enough.”

The horse whinnied in agreement.

Gruffudd observed the trees as they went along, wondering if they had been standing there to watch the road’s construction when suddenly Stout Oak stopped, his head raised, his ears perked up, alert to danger.

“I feel it too, loyal friend.” Sir Gruffudd said.

Ahead on the road three dark, shadowy shapes stepped from behind the trees. At first, Sir Gruffudd thought they were also travellers and noted that they were big men who could doubtless handle any trouble along the road. But then the three moved closer and Sir Gruffudd saw that they had no features, only flat blankness where their faces ought to be. No, not quite flat; there were distinct markings on the blank face and all over where hands had moulded these figures. And a familiar scent. They were made, Sir Gruffudd realized, of the same type of modeling clay he had observed in a sculptor’s cottage. But their moulded figures were muscular and they stood three abreast, blocking the knight’s way.

“Stout Oak,” Sir Gruffudd whispered. “Perhaps I should have paid heed when you clearly wished to go no further.”

Sir Gruffudd raised his voice and addressed the clay figures.

“Ho, strangers! Know that I am Sir Gruffudd yn Aur, traveling from the court of my Liege Lord King Arthur at Camelot. I call on you to let me pass.”

The figure in the middle slowly shook its head.

“Then by my Oaths, I shall come through anyway.” Sir Gruffudd said, dismounting and drawing his sword.

The three figures slowly advanced as the Knight came closer. The figure on the end extended his arm which suddenly moulded into a big clay sword. It swung as Sir Gruffudd parried with his own mighty blade. The clay sword was sliced cleanly in two.

“It appears I have you at a disadvantage,” Sir Gruffudd said.

Then the broken pieces of the clay sword quickly moulded themselves around Sir Gruffudd’s blade and up his arm and neck. The Knight quickly realized that if the clay formed over his face he would be unable to breathe.

The other two of the Pilosus Stranentum, for they could be no other, moulded themselves around the Knight’s legs and the legs of Stout Oak. But the horse responded with swift kicks which connected with a clay torso which was thrown to the side of the road into the sandy soil. The clay thing began to rise, covered in sand and leaves but then stood still.

“Tis the solution!” Sir Gruffudd shouted. “These clay manikins only retain their power when they are wholly clay or engulfing animals or humans. Mixed with sand their power is blocked!”

The Knight quickly tore free of the clay bonds and set to work digging with his sword in the sand of the roadside. He slashed the clay figures as they encroached upon him and quickly shoved sand into the clay “wounds.”

The two remaining figures were likewise immobilized.

“I know not what dark power brought these things to life, but doubtless the miracle of God’s good Earth did strip them of their dark power.”

As Stout Oak and Sir Gruffudd road down the road, the Knight patted the thick cloth bag he had hung from the saddle.

“Surely, Stout Oak, a bag full of sand is a strange weapon to carry but it may yet come in handy…”

But whatever perils the ancient road held for the travellers the Chronicles do not reveal.

—end—

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The draws for the September 2026 Flash Fiction Draw Challenge were a Sword and Sorcery Story, set on an Abandoned Highway involving Modeling Clay. I’ve always been fascinated by the Roman Roads in Britain, and I had a sword wielding hero made to order. Sir Gruffudd and Stout Oak get a mention in a couple of my flash stories and feature in a longer story out for hopeful publication now. I’ll keep you posted. —–jsb