The Dark Age (18 page)

‘Aye. He realised he had been a fool for not listening to thee more often, and he was pleased that he had trusted thee to contend with Chiglas' attack. His last words came in the form of a prophecy, I suppose:
When Maelgwn be crowned King of all Gwynedd, the land shall unite and prosper. Goddess blessed, he will be hailed as one of the greatest leaders among Britons
.' Maelgwn appeared doubtful as he pondered her words, so Tory added as verification, ‘The history books say the same.'

His eyes met hers. ‘Thou art aware of everything that shall befall me, art thou not?' He changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on his father after the events of the past couple of days.

‘Some things.'

‘Doth thou know if we will have an heir?' His siren mood returned and he was all hands.

She smiled, placing her fingers on the pressure points at the top of his arms to paralyse them. ‘Do I have to ask thee to leave?'

The pain forced him to control himself. ‘Forgive me, thou wast going to say?'

Tory, in all honesty, was a bit perturbed by the question; this heir business obviously meant a lot to Maelgwn so she felt she should put his fears to rest.
‘Aye, his name be Rhun. He grows to be a fierce warrior and a rather notorious womaniser, so they say.'

This made Maelgwn tremendously happy. ‘I can hardly wait to return to thee so that our life together may begin. I do miss thee already.' He leant towards her.

‘Maelgwn, art thou up there?' Lady Gladys' voice echoed up the stairwell.

‘Damn that woman,' Maelgwn whispered under his breath, and Tory's chuckle gave them away. ‘I had best go.' He kissed her quickly.

‘Maelgwn!' His aunt called again in warning.

T
he Prince's party left at noon the following day. Tory was present to see them off, as were most of the household. Brockwell seemed to be having no trouble ignoring her, so she returned the favour.

As additional penance, Brockwell was to remain at the house to attend to the training of the men. Sir Cedric had been appointed to Sir Gilmore's old position as trainer, and Sir Percival, Caswallon's accounts' keeper, would be arriving from Degannwy to resume the administrative work of the court. With Gilmore's death, Percival was the last of King Caswallon's advisers, and Maelgwn needed him close at hand. The Prince also considered that Aberffraw was a much cosier environment for the aging scholar.

All knights and lords of high rank in Gwynedd were to accompany the Prince to Llyn Cerrig Bach for the
ritual. The only outsider permitted was King Catulus. Over the years, those of the Roman faith had discouraged him from maintaining the old ways and beliefs of his people. Yet since the King had met Maelgwn all those years ago, he'd become rather fond of him. Catulus was inspired by the ancient mysteries in which his young friend believed, and so he was thrilled to be along for the ride.

Brockwell's decision to stay behind can't have been easy, Tory considered as she glanced in his direction. A king's inauguration was a rare and esteemed affair for the male members of the court, and it was a great honour to have earned the right to attend.

Tory kissed Maelgwn goodbye, knowing that he would come back to her triumphant and unharmed. ‘I shall see thee at the altar then.'

‘Thee may be sure of that.' He left in fine spirits to join his men, who were all mounted and eager to depart. The knights raised a riot, spurred on by the cheers of the crowd, as the Prince led them charging off through the open portcullis.

Once the party had left, the gathering of well-wishers dispersed and Tory turned to Katren. ‘Ready?' Katren gave a firm nod. ‘Lead the way.'

Katren had been moved out of the servants' quarters and into a room with Cara and Alma in the main wing. Her participation in Gwynedd's victory led her to be deemed a lady by royal decree, and she was therefore eligible to pursue a knight's affections. Together with Tory and Lady Gladys, she had been devising Calin's entrapment, and he'd become the major topic over
lunch. The three women agreed that Katren and the other girls would go into intensive training this week while the knights were away. If Brockwell wanted a challenge, then that was exactly what they would give him.

Katren and Tory strolled slowly across the great lawn of the sunny outer bailey, observing the training taking place there and remarking on the more skilful or handsome of the soldiers. Brockwell was not far off, overseeing a large group of men being put through their paces. He spied the women walking towards the outer-bailey portcullis, and moved at once to inquire as to their intent. After all, he was in charge, and their safety was his responsibility. Though he was forbidden to speak with Tory, he could ask Katren.
Lady Katren in fact.
Brockwell considered that she'd done rather well for herself. ‘Lady Katren, where art thou going this day?'

‘Why Sir Brockwell, we art —'

‘Nay Katren. Why should we answer to one who hast chosen freely to ignore me,' Tory said as she stormed off ahead.

Katren's soft blue eyes looked up at Brockwell full of sympathy. ‘She misses thy company, sir, that be all. We art only going to see the tradesmen in the village about a wedding gift for the Prince.' She smiled but did not linger to chat.

But again the knight stopped her, ‘Lady Katren, I need to ask thee a great favour. I know I am in disgrace and thou hast no —'

‘There be no disgrace in the truth, sir … if thou dost not mind me saying so.' Brockwell's eyes were so
intense as they heeded her that Katren began to blush. ‘I would be honoured to help thee, what doth thou require of me?'

 

Tory wandered round the marketplace meeting the local merchants while waiting for Katren. She asked directions to the workshop of a wood carver and a goldsmith, as she had a commission for them to carry out. The men were most helpful, and very proud to be entrusted with the creation of the wedding gift for their future monarch.

Instead of exchanging rings, as is done in modern ceremony, the Britons exchanged gifts. Tory, knowing Maelgwn to be a great thinker, decided to have a chess set crafted for him; after all, chess became known in later centuries as the game of kings. Tory supplied the gold and silver for the pieces, courtesy of Lady Gladys, and selected oak and white willow for the board. She paid the craftsmen handsomely for the many hours they would have to put in to finish the gift in time, and they both set to work immediately, carefully following the drawings she'd given them.

Katren had caught Tory up by this time, and the pair ambled back through the centre of the village. As they walked, Tory noticed that they'd attracted a few children on the way. The throng of excited youngsters trailed along behind them, interested to know what a Goddess was really like. When Katren became aware of the curious group she initiated a game of chase, so Tory stood aside to watch and ponder their plight. It would take little effort to educate these youngsters, she thought.

‘Be Prince Maelgwn going to slay another dragon, Lady Goddess?' A young boy, maybe five years old, had plucked up the courage to approach her.

Tory, rather amused by his title for her, was stunned when she looked down at him. This boy was the very image of Calin, the piercing blue eyes, dark curls, dimple, and all. ‘The Prince never killed the dragon, he befriended it. Nothing can be learnt from death and destruction.'

‘I am going to be a knight,' the young boy told her with zeal, despite the mocking laughter of the other children.

‘His mamma was nothin' but a whore!' one of the older boys sneered.

Tory, seeing the boy's embarrassment, went down on one knee to address him. ‘And what be thy name, soldier?'

‘Brockwell.'

His answer nearly knocked her over.

One of the older girls ran forward and clasped a hand over the boy's mouth. ‘It be jest, his mamma claimed Sir Brockwell was his father, and when she died in birthing old Hetty nicknamed him thus. But he be really known as Bryce, lady.'

Katren also found the resemblance rather striking, and was filled with sympathy for the boy. ‘Hast thee no kin?'

‘Nay.' The girl held Bryce firm. ‘He be kept by old Hetty and her whores.'

Katren and Tory looked at each other, unable to resist investigating this further.

Bryce led them to a small village just outside the marketplace, that consisted of six or seven little round huts. Tory spied the town's presumed mad woman outside one hut, but she didn't appear so crazed now. She was steadily chopping her way through a large pile of wood, wielding the axe with the same force as any adult male. When she noticed them, she brought the axe to rest in a large stump and folded her arms. She had the build any female gladiator would envy. Her expression was perfectly blank.

‘Who be this woman, Bryce?' Tory asked, before they were within earshot.

‘She be Ione, she hast no tongue and cannot speak, but I understand her,' he told Tory. ‘She would not hurt thee, only bad men make her mad.'

‘I see. Would thee introduce us? I have need to speak with her.' Bryce nodded, eager to please.

‘Careful,' Katren warned, casting an eye over the strong figure of the woman.

Tory shrugged, not in the least bit worried as she followed Bryce.

Ione bowed her head ever so slightly as they approached, before making a few gestures with her hands for Bryce's benefit. It was a simple form of sign language, and Bryce chuckled at what she had to say.

‘No offence, but she thinks thou art rather small to be a great warrior.'

‘Of course.' Tory could see her view. So, to the delight of the children, Tory decided to do her wood-splitting exercise, which left the little audience gaping in awe. The children begged her to do it again and
when she would not, the rowdy flock ran home to tell their parents what they'd seen.

After Ione had inspected Tory's hand, and found not a mark on it, she bowed low to the ground, urging Bryce down beside her.

‘Please rise,' Tory urged. ‘The Goddess be within us all, Ione. If thou art willing, I would very much like to instruct thee in my ways. Be there someone I must speak to about this?'

‘Me.'

Tory turned to find an old woman watching them from the doorway of the closest hut.

Old Hetty was the owner of the huts, though she'd never intended the village to become a brothel. After her husband died, she'd taken in female boarders who had nowhere else to stay, and the rest was history. She did seem to be a caring soul and was very businesslike. She sat Tory and Katren down with a cup of wicked mead, as she mulled over Tory's proposition.

‘I believe that with the proper training, Ione could be as fierce a warrior as any man, and of just as much service to Gwynedd. I would pay thee for her time, of course, and Ione for her efforts.' Tory believed this to be a fair deal.

‘Ione hast already taught herself to wield a sword, did thee know that?' the old woman asked to establish her girl's value.

‘Nay I did not,' Tory admitted, ‘but still …'

‘All well and good, but who shall attend to my heavy chores? Ione be the man around here.'

‘I will allocate a soldier to thee, upon Ione's arrival
for training every day, to carry out these chores in her absence. If thou hast any complaints, just let me know.'

‘I shall, never fear about that.' Hetty seemed pleased with the deal, though she did a good job of hiding it.

As the old woman stood to leave, Tory thought to ask, ‘One more thing, about Bryce. Be his claim to the name Brockwell true?'

Old Hetty appeared surprised that Tory chose to bring up the subject. She resumed her seat, pouring another round of mead. ‘There art many soldiers at Aberffraw, yet few with such distinctive features as Calin Brockwell, Duke of Penmon. Bryce's mother, a young girl of six and ten, did claim to have sought out Sir Brockwell on Beltaine that year. When she found herself with child she believed that it was of the Goddess and would be born, exactly nine moon cycles later, on the twelth day of Luis.'

This didn't make sense to Tory at first, but then she recalled there were thirteen months in the old calendar.

‘And did she give birth then?' Katren asked, intrigued.

‘Aye, and she died that day also. The poor little mite was so small the effort killed her.'

Tory and Katren looked at each other in horror, both of a small frame themselves.

‘That be why it dost not surprise me that, as a Goddess, thou hast come to seek out Bryce,' Hetty said. ‘And I do not mind telling thee, ladies, I fear for the child's welfare when I have passed on. Most of the girls here have children of their own to worry about, and
Bryce be just another hungry mouth to feed. So, if ye have some intent for him, I pray thee, speak it.'

Tory was stunned, this woman was more straightforward than she was. She'd been thinking more along the lines of education than adoption.

‘Oh aye, Tory, I would help thee,' Katren said, this miniature of Calin had already stolen her heart.

‘Now hold on one second, I have to think this through,' Tory replied. Even if he wasn't Brockwell's son, which she very much doubted, he was bright, eager, unwanted, and training him would be a good indication of how the children here might take to her skills. ‘If Bryce agrees, I shall make provision for him at the castle.'

Katren sprang from her chair and wrapped her arms around Tory. ‘Thou art too good to me.'

‘Yeah, yeah.' Tory patted her arm, wondering how Calin and Lady Gladys would react when they saw him, not to mention the Prince.

Hetty smiled. ‘Thou hast brought me great relief, lady. Both the souls I hold most precious have been provided for in one day. Let us celebrate.' She topped up their glasses for a toast to seal the deal. ‘To the Great Mother.'

‘To the Goddess,' they replied.

 

The outer bailey was in near darkness by the time Tory and Katren returned with the child. Tory had spent many hours with Hetty discussing the problems of women in their society, and she felt angry at the male population for their irresponsibility. She would begin
work on new laws regarding this immediately, so that they would be ready to present to court before her crowning. As Maelgwn was not here to advise her, Tory felt sure Lady Gladys would be sympathetic to her cause.

Brockwell approached the women with haste, having had guards out looking for them half the day. ‘Lady Katren, where hast thou been … and where did he come from?' he asked, sounding most annoyed that Tory was picking up strays again.

‘Be that Sir Brockwell?' the boy asked, taking a long look at the famous knight.

‘Hush now,' Katren said, leaving Tory to contend with Brockwell.

‘Bryce came from a night of lust by the fires of Beltaine some six years past,' Tory stated, taunting Calin. ‘A young girl of old Hetty's keeping. Am I ringing any bells yet?'

Although he looked as guilty as sin, Brockwell said naught.

‘Look, forget that, just say something to me. Thou art breaking my heart with this damn penance.' Tory was frustrated by his silence. ‘At least explain!' But no matter what she said, Calin would neither answer, nor look at her. ‘Oh, what's the use?' She threw her arms in the air and made her way to the inner bailey.

 

When Maelgwn arrived at Llyn Cerrig Bach, Taliesin led him to a small room. The chamber was designed for meditation and reflection, as it could be blackened and silenced completely. Here the Prince was to fast in a state of trance for two days and two nights, taking only
water during that time. This was the shaman's way of getting in touch with a part of one's inner self that was wiser, stronger and balanced.