There are two Caer Caradocs in Shropshire. Both Iron Age hillforts are the supposed last stand of the celtic tribes led by ‘King Caractacus’ against the invading Romans. I had a powerful vision of that battle whilst walking the ramparts at dusk. Their story insisted on being told.

Lyrics

I walked the Long Forest, beneath yew and hornbeam. Climbed up the Gaer Stone, chasing my dreams. And down in Clun Valley, deep in the fields, hidden in hedgerows, gifting their yields…

I came to the hillfort, shrouded in trees. Circled the ditches, feeling so free. And all around me, the earth has my back, hugging me safely, against all attack, attack...

Hawthorn stands proudly, laden with red. Gorse sings bright yellow, bracken’s my bed. Moon shines above me, stars all around, the earth is my pillow, on this soft mound.

Then I see figures moving, hazy at first, digging the ditches, quenching their thirst. Making defences, spikes and stockades, putting up barriers, protection from raids, raids…

Beneath us comes marching, the ranks in full fling. Their armour is glistening, swords ready to swing. To conquer the natives, move people off their land. The tribe must keep fighting, for their lives they must make a stand.

I feel their panic, see homes overthrown. My kinsmen all slaughtered, taking all that they’ve grown. But their voices still echo, as I slip back in time. Their tale is unfolding, becoming one with mine, mine...

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