"Don't forget the most important thing, Artos. King Arthur beat our enemies, the pagan Angles and Saxons, and gave us fifty years of peace." "Yes, Father. I know that. I hate the Angles and the Saxons. They first came to Britain in the fifth century after the Romans left." "Yes, son, it was a hundred and fifty years ago. The Angles and the Saxons landed on the east coast, near London, and moved west. They are slowly taking all of Britain. They even call our land Anglia — the land of the Angles. It is so unfair." The father sighed. "Now be brave, son. A Saxon king is coming here with a great army. They will burn our beautiful farm and all the farms of the tribe. We must leave our land forever." Artos began to cry. Artos, do you remember the motto of our tribe?" "Yes, Father." "Put your hand on mine and say it." "Fight for the ring. Fight with the ring. Fight in the ring." And what does it mean, Artos?" "It means our tribe must stay together and help our friends. We are the People of the Ring. Together we are free and strong like Arthur's Knights of the Round Table." Artos said. "Tomorrow we will have a special ring meeting. There we will make the decision. I think we should move to the North." Suddenly Artos was angry. "Why do these Angles and Saxons want our land, Father? They have nearly all our land. WE always have to move. Why?" "Because," said his father, "behind them in Europe are other tribes. They attack the Saxons, and then the Saxons attack us."
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