The Dark Age (24 page)

Tory kept the company of Bryce and Taliesin for most of the afternoon. On the lower green they witnessed their representatives go on to win their heats, and make the final four who would compete for the title and the pot of gold.

Taliesin's entrant, whose fighting style was quite like that of the Queen's, had all speculating as to what Otherworld ancestor the Merlin had conjured up to compete on his behalf. Or perhaps he was a warrior from the future or the distant past? But the Merlin was tight lipped and refused to comment.

The Black Knight became the third of the final four, and Ione the last. Calin and Tiernan had won the first two placings, managing also to aid Gwynedd to victory against Gwent Is Coed in the challenge.

Things had looked bad for Gwynedd at first, as the knights from Gwent in the south, who were constantly
plagued by seafaring attacks on their harbour ports, had won the archery competition. The warriors from Gwynedd, who were more accustomed to ground assault both on foot and horseback, triumphed in the end, however, winning the greater points in the jousting and swordplay events.

As Dyfed had only just defeated Dumnonia in all three trials, Vortipor had got his wish and would compete against the legend of Gwynedd. It was plain to all that the two young leaders were greatly looking forward to the match, as they raised a goblet of mead to each other's success and wellbeing.

Once again, the boys from the south clenched the greater points for archery, and although Maelgwn shot much better this time round the more experienced bowmen from Dyfed won out in the end.

Tory found the jousting and swordplay hair-raising, yet after Angus, Rhys, and Tiernan had won their heats it was plain to all who the greater horsemen and swordsmen were. Dyfed, having seen little hostile action of late, found their battle skills in this area somewhat lacking.

Brockwell managed to conclude his heat against Vortipor's champion, Sir Queron, in a matter of minutes. Calin was just as amazing to watch in action as Brian had been, Tory thought. So at home on a horse and with his weapons was he, that they seemed a mere extension of himself. He dismounted his opponent on the first pass of their joust. Brockwell then sprang from the charging horse and had his sword poised at the throat of his adversary before Queron realised what had
hit him. Sir Queron, twice his opponent's age and far more experienced, could hardly believe it.

‘Wast thou born on a horse with a sword in thy hand, boy? I have never seen such skill in one so young. I do humbly yield to thee, Sir Brockwell of Penmon,' Queron said, holding out a hand for Brockwell to help him up.

Under normal circumstances, Brockwell would probably have taken offence to the older knight referring to him as a boy and run him through. Yet, Sir Queron was quite notorious himself, so Brockwell considered this to be a compliment and gladly helped him to his feet.

Maelgwn hoisted himself onto the black stallion, Aristotle, and Tory grew nervous as she watched. She sat forward in her seat, unsure if she felt thus because he appeared so gallant, or if it was a premonition. ‘I do not know about this,' she uttered, feeling uneasy.

Brockwell claimed the seat beside her, lifting Bryce to sit on his lap. ‘Fear not. Maelgwn be good at the joust.'

‘Aye,' Catulus seconded Calin's view. ‘The best.'

Cedric sounded the cry and the two began their charge towards each other.

Tory's pulse was racing but she couldn't look. She heard the sound of the lances meet.

‘Wooh!' the crowd cried, before breaking into applause.

‘What happened?' Tory asked, not opening her eyes.

‘Tory!' Brockwell sounded disgusted. ‘Thou art supposed to watch. Nothing hast happened.'

Upon daring to open her eyes she found them lining up for another pass. ‘Damn.'

She was not to be put out of her misery upon this clash either. Five more passes followed before Maelgwn finally toppled Vortipor from his horse and they drew their swords to do battle.

‘Good show, Maelgwn! Finish him off,' Catulus yelled in encouragement, holding up his mead to the young King.

Both men used swords rounded blunt at the point, although one could still inflict a nasty gash if desired, as the blades were left quite sharp.

The two leaders battled and sidestepped each other for a time to the great excitement of the spectators. Finally, Vortipor took advantage of the sun setting behind him, and Maelgwn sustained a gash to the upper left arm.

Tory stood and called out to her husband's assailant. ‘Thee will pay for that one, Vortipor.' She gestured to Maelgwn in a sign language only they understood.

He gave her a nod of understanding and returned his attention to the fight, again clashing swords with Vortipor. Maelgwn held his attacker's blade at bay with his own and startled Vortipor with a numbing kick to his jaw. When the Irish warrior hit the ground, Maelgwn stepped hard onto his sword arm, forcing him to lose his weapon. The King rested the blunt end of his blade against Vortipor's jugular. ‘The Goddess warned thee friend, dost thou yield?'

‘What happened?' Vortipor rested his free hand against his bruised jaw.

‘Dost thou yield?' The King looked down at his stunned foe.

‘It would seem thou hast left me little choice,' Vortipor granted, and Maelgwn gave him a hand to his feet. ‘Congratulations Dragon, thou art a formidable opponent. And ah, sorry about the scratch, got a tad carried away.'

Maelgwn shrugged as if it were nothing. ‘Come, let us relax with a drink and watch for a while.'

The King reclined in the marquee while his cut was dressed. Gwynedd had won and there was much cause to celebrate, especially for King Catulus, who'd clenched the wager he'd held with Vortipor and Aurelius Caninus.

‘I told thee, he never loses,' King Catulus chuckled, merrily pouring more mead for them all.

Tory's attention drifted to the arena where Sir Tiernan and Ione stood opposite each other, ready to commence the first of the three final fights of the day. The winner of this would meet the Black Knight and the winner of that would fight Brockwell for the title, as he was ranked most highly.

As soon as Cedric gave them leave, Ione charged Tiernan. The shock tactic worked, as she was able to throw him off balance and out of the circle.

Tiernan protested and cursed his ridiculous situation, insisting he could not fight a female.

‘Get used to it,' was Tory's response, and Maelgwn merely shrugged; it was Tory's day, her quest, her rules.

Tiernan reluctantly returned to the arena to lose three to one.

None too happy, he entered the marquee to join his fellow knights. ‘Do not feel bad, Tiernan, she licked me first round.' Rhys, who had recovered from the embarrassment, held a drink out to his friend.

With his pride and body still freshly bruised, Tiernan was not yet ready to laugh it off. ‘It be ludicrous!' he insisted, accepting the goblet of mead.

Tory stood to face him and Maelgwn rose beside her, a mite worried she would cut loose. ‘Then thou art not serious about my instruction, Tiernan?'

The knight cooled at the sight of her, nodding his head to confirm both her statement and his mistake. ‘I did not think. Apologies lady, if I have offended the Goddess.'

A commotion erupted in the arena and Tory turned to see soldiers dragging Ione away from the Black Knight, kicking and screeching in protest. Cedric approached the royal marquee, appearing rather pleased.

‘I be very sorry, lady, but thy entrant hast attacked her opponent before we commenced. That warrants disqualification doth it not?'

Tory appeared disappointed. ‘Those art the rules.'

‘Match to the Black Knight, he shall meet Brockwell for the Queen's title,' Cedric decreed.

Rhys and Tiernan were overwhelmed with delight, clinking their goblets and taking a swig.

Tory rolled her eyes at this. ‘Typical.'

Before the last match of the day began, both contenders were brought before Tory for her blessing. The knights knelt before her, heads bowed low.

‘Brave warriors of Gwynedd, who have fought so gallantly this day, I wish thee the best of luck in thy quest for the title and the gold. May the greater warrior win.'

The two knights rose, the Black Knight returning immediately to the arena. Brockwell, however, lingered near Tory to ask her in a whisper, ‘Where be Katren, she be missing this?'

‘I did speak with her earlier, and I hate to say it but she sounded a mite upset with thee. But I feel sure she will be watching in any case.'

Calin was most perturbed as he returned to the ring for the challenge.

As Tory took her seat next to Maelgwn, appearing rather pleased with herself, he leant over to her. ‘What art thou up to? Something be going on, I can feel it.'

‘Trust me,' she advised, patting his knee.

Bryce came racing up and sat on Tory's lap. ‘Calin be going to win!' The boy was convinced, having witnessed his idol undefeated this day.

‘I would not count on it,' Taliesin commented, quietly confident of a win himself.

‘Who be this knight, Taliesin?' Maelgwn was finally curious enough to inquire. ‘He cannot be a local, I would surely know such a fine warrior.'

‘I assure thee, Majesty, my knight lives up to all of thy requirements.'

‘In other words, thou hast no intention of telling me.'

‘Correct.' Taliesin looked back to the arena where the clash was about to commence. ‘The Black Knight's identity shall be revealed to thee upon my victory.'

Cedric sounded the cry and the two warriors began stalking each other in a circle round the edge of the rope. Calin was about to make his move when the Black Knight spun round and planted a heel in his stomach with such force that Brockwell was driven to the ground well outside the circle.

‘Two points to the Black Knight.'

Cedric's announcement angered Brockwell; he hadn't lost a point all day. ‘Who art thou, sir? I want to know.' He rose, angered.

The Black Knight stood in defence, urging Calin back into the ring.

‘Now Sir Brockwell, let's not do anything rash,' Cedric cautioned. He did not want his last hope disqualified for misconduct.

‘Nay, let us get on with it,' Brockwell growled, taking his place.

‘Match point,' Cedric informed the crowd to Calin's further irritation. ‘Begin!'

Again they circled, yet Calin was more cautious this time and stayed further inside the ring. The Black Knight seemed to be taunting him, darting around his attack with apparent ease. In the glossy black shield that covered his opponent's eyes, Brockwell could see his own clumsy attack, and he now wished he'd encouraged Tory to train him sooner. Calin lashed out with a punch, and his arm was unexpectedly trapped mid-flight. The next thing he knew, he was twisted around to land face down in the dirt.

As Cedric started the count, Brockwell struggled in vain to break loose. His arm was pushed hard up across
his back, and the Black Knight's knee was firmly embedded in his back.

‘Four and a half …?' Cedric tried to stall and was finally forced to concede defeat. ‘Five. I hail the Black Knight to be the Queen's Champion and victorious this day.' He didn't sound at all excited about the announcement.

There was a silent pause as Brockwell rose and turned to face the Black Knight. ‘Show thyself,' he demanded in anger, planning to kill him, whoever he was.

The Black Knight bowed politely, conforming to his wish. As the knight removed the head cover, all gasped in awe.

‘Lady Katren!' Brockwell went weak at the knees, stunned.

‘Aye, a woman be capable of so much more than just warming thy bed, Calin. Here endeth the lesson. Now if thou would excuse me, I shall be off to collect my due.' She turned to make her way to the King and Queen, looking back briefly to add with glee, as she removed her gloves, ‘Fair fight.'

Calin was totally beguiled as Cedric placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. ‘It be a shock to me too, Brockwell. I think we had best take up the way of the Goddess before the women take over!'

Ione held her hand up to Katren as she approached the royal tent, and Katren served her a high-five as she passed.

Maelgwn couldn't help but smile at this. ‘Katren, thou art all swollen.' He made jest of the padding of her disguise.

‘Ate too much at thy wedding, Majesty.' She curtsied to him, very pleased with herself.

Tory, Cara, Alma, Ione, Lady Gladys and Taliesin gathered around Katren. The Merlin placed a goblet in her hand, as the group of women raised their drinks in the air.

‘A toast to the Goddess, ladies,' Taliesin said, briefly admiring the lovely women around him. ‘The Goddess returns!'

‘The Goddess returns!' the women repeated after him, clinking goblets to drink to their first victory.

 

After claiming her gold, Katren made her way back to her quarters to clean up before the night's celebrations. She was not surprised when Calin followed her.

‘Why, Katren? Why hast thou done this to me?' he asked. ‘I even saved thy virtue not so long past …'

‘Only to try to steal it last night!' she snapped back. ‘I do not regret my actions, Calin, thou deserved it.'

‘Alright, I deserved it,' he agreed, not wanting to fight. ‘I apologise for what I said last night, can thou not forgive me?'

‘Of course,' Katren said without hesitation. ‘Thou art forgiven.' She turned and continued her stride up to the house.

Brockwell was stumped for a moment by the ease of his absolution and ran to catch her up. ‘Katren.' He caught her arm. ‘I wish to court thee,' Brockwell blurted out, barely believing the words that had left his mouth.

Katren smiled, patting his cheek. ‘I do not think so, not yet. Next spring perhaps, if thou art still so inclined.
I have a fair idea thy feelings for me may change in the near future.'

‘Why spring? I shall surely die before then.'