The Dark Age (30 page)

‘Then marry me!'

‘I cannot do that, Calin.'

He rolled his eyes, ‘In the name of the Goddess, Katren, why not?'

In the midst of her hysteria, Katren unexpectedly found some clarity and she replied, ‘Because thou art not in love with me.'

‘Nay, Kat—'

Katren placed her fingers to his lips to silence him. ‘Aye, it be true enough, and I can prove it,' she whispered, before bestowing on him the most luscious of kisses.

This was quite a change for Katren, and Calin was more than happy to go with it. But when she slid her hands inside his jacket, he backed off. ‘What art thou doing?'

‘I want to Calin, really. It be alright.'

‘So thou shalt marry me?'

‘Nay.'

Her reply made him frown. ‘Art thou saying thee will be my mistress, but not my wife?'

Katren nodded to confirm.

Brockwell paused, appearing rather bemused. He slipped Katren's hands from his chest and stepped away from her. ‘Nay, Katren, I shall have thee as my wife or not at all.'

‘Calin, see reason! Why should I be different from the others? If thou would just take me thee would find that thou art not really in love with me at all, and thus we will be saved a lifetime of heartache.'

‘How can thee say that? I have sworn on my honour that I love thee, why will thee not believe me?' He took hold of her. ‘Should I swear by the elements for thee, Katren? Send me on a quest to prove my love, anything, just tell me what I should do.'

She gently held her hand to his face and smiled as she caressed his skin. ‘Make love to me.'

The answer brought a tear to his eye. Maelgwn had warned him many times that his past would catch up with him, but only now did Calin truly realise what the Prince had meant. Here he had finally found the one woman to whom he could remain loyal, yet no amount of assurances would convince her of it.

‘Katren, come quick,' Alma called, racing into the room, too preoccupied with her news to notice she'd interrupted anything. ‘It's Jenovefa, her water hast broken.'

Katren looked at Brockwell. She was reluctant to leave him when he appeared so forlorn.

‘I am not going anywhere.' He gave her leave to tend to the emergency. ‘Thee should go.'

 

For nine hours the Queen remained at Jenovefa's side. Ione had fetched Old Hetty from the village to attend the birth. The old woman had delivered more children than everyone else in the area put together, and Tory felt Jenovefa was in the best of care.

This shall be me before too long, Tory gulped, as she watched Jenovefa, sweating and screaming through her agony.
I must be insane,
Tory concluded as she left the room.

‘How doth she fare, Majesty?' Rhys was upon her as soon as she emerged.

Tory smiled. ‘As well as one could expect, sir, but she be only halfway there at best. So thee may as well get some rest.'

‘Who could sleep? I want to see her.'

‘I would strongly advise against that. At this stage, Rhys, I think she would probably kill thee. Tiernan, would thee take Rhys and fill him with food and mead until he passes out.'

‘With pleasure.' Tiernan took hold of him.

‘Nay, I do not want —' Rhys protested, but Tiernan was by far the stronger of the two.

‘That be an order, sir, not advice,' Tory raised her voice, too tired to argue with him.

‘How art thou faring?' Maelgwn approached to ask.

The look she gave him implied that it was a stupid question. ‘That shall be me in seven months.'

‘Aye.' He smiled.

‘Thee need not appear so happy about it. Thee shall owe me big for the favour, believe me.'

‘Indeed, I shall,' he agreed, in good spirits. ‘But right now thou art tired, and well in need of food and rest thyself. Come.' The King could see a protest surfacing. ‘That be an order,' he cautioned, leading Tory off down the hall.

 

Maelgwn let Tory sleep till after dawn the next day. When he entered their chambers to wake her, he found the Queen tossing about and saturated in sweat. ‘Tory, Tory wake up, thou art dreaming again.'

Her eyes opened wide and she sat up. ‘Jenovefa's babe?' she asked in a panic.

‘Jenovefa be fine and very close now,' he assured her, surprised to see her scrambling out of bed. ‘What be the matter?'

‘I have had another prophecy,' she explained, pulling on her clothes.

‘What hast thou seen?'

‘Blood.' She tied her belt and made for the door. ‘Lots of it.'

Tory arrived at Jenovefa's side, finding all as it should be.

‘Majesty.' Jenovefa reached her arm out anxiously for Tory.

‘I am so sorry, Jenny. Maelgwn did not wake me.' Tory clenched her hand tight.

‘The King only be watching out for his own heir,' Jenovefa uttered. She gasped for breath, too fatigued to scream anymore.

It seemed that she had something to say, if only she could find a moment's peace.

‘I have changed my mind, Majesty. I wish to study under thee, with my husband's permission or no. I will not spend the next twenty years thus,' she panted heavily, a groan escaping her lips.

Mabel, one of the other noble women of the court, gently wiped her brow with a cool cloth. ‘Shh Jen. She be delirious,' she informed Tory.

‘I do not think so somehow,' Tory replied.

‘Nay, I am not!' She pushed Mabel away. ‘Majesty please. Better I die now than my life amount to naught but that of a glorified mare.'

‘Jenovefa! What art thou saying?' Mabel, the mother of four, was horrified.

‘Thee understands, Majesty.' Jenovefa ignored Mabel's protest, awaiting the Queen's word.

‘Aye.' Tory politely asked Mabel to fetch some more water. Once she'd closed the door behind her, Tory consoled Jenovefa. ‘I be not sure how we shall get around thy husband, but we shall work something out.'

Although the agony of the moment seized her, Jenovefa managed to smile.

‘Push child … I see the head,' Hetty instructed.

With that, Jenovefa screamed with all her might.

‘What be going on in there?' Rhys demanded to know, heading for the door.

Maelgwn and Tiernan advanced to stop him. ‘Tory shall let thee know as soon as there be any development,' Maelgwn instructed, leading him back to his seat.

‘But listen to her!'

‘That be nothing.'

They turned to find Taliesin and Selwyn striding down the hall.

‘Thee ought to have heard Sorcha giving birth to this one,' the High Merlin chuckled, making light of a serious situation.

‘High Merlin, praise the Goddess thou art here. I think she be dying!' Rhys raced to meet him.

‘Nay.' Taliesin rested a hand on his shoulder, sending surges of calming energy through the expectant father. ‘She be in agony, I'll grant, but fear not, she shall survive.' The High Merlin looked at the King, his old face filled with pride. ‘And there be more congratulations in order, I believe.' He embraced Maelgwn as he had not done since the Prince was a small boy, overwhelmed with delight.

‘I suspected the news might please thee.'

‘Pleased! I couldn't be more so. I am to be his tutor, of course?'

‘Who else?' Maelgwn answered with a smile.

‘Please, High Merlin, can this not wait?' The screams from his chambers caused Rhys to fret more.

Suddenly all was was quiet. The men held their breath, looking to the closed door, until the sound of a babe crying caused them to break into rejoicing. Rhys rushed through the well-wishers as the door opened.

Tory came forth, quietly closing the door behind her. ‘It be a boy.' She burst into tears, as did Rhys as he embraced her, elated and relieved.

‘A son! May I see them?'

‘Jenovefa asked that thee give her a moment, but I assure thee, both mother and child art in fine health.'

‘So, by what name shall thy son be known, Rhys?' Maelgwn handed the proud father a goblet of mead to toast the new babe's health.

‘We have agreed on Gawain.' The name meant hawk of battle.

‘Splendid choice.'

Everyone raised their goblets as Taliesin made a toast. ‘To the young Lord Gawain of Din Lligwy. May he find beauty, wisdom and joy in life. And may the Goddess bless him with the health and strength to do his father and his forefathers proud.'

‘So be it!' One and all resounded as their goblets met.

 

The herds and flocks of Aberffraw had been gathered together over the weeks prior to Samhain. The choice
animals were spared for breeding purposes, but the majority had been killed the night before the feast for the winter stores. The King and Taliesin had both seen this as the possible inspiration for Tory's dream. As Taliesin had experienced no such premonition, he felt that in this case Tory was perhaps confusing prophesy with a nightmare. But the Merlin did not say so in front of her. He explained that he felt the Queen so in tune with the Goddess and the land that she must have sensed the panic of the beasts led to the slaughter.

Tory had seen naught but blood, gushing down walls, stairs, floors and eventually all over the earth, staining everything in its path a coat of red, so dark it appeared almost black. As life in the castle was calm now and Jenovefa and her child were well, Tory accepted this conclusion.

By evening every fire in the kingdom would be extinguished, only to be rekindled from a ceremonial fire lit by a druid. From this fire, others would be lit in the outer bailey where the folk from the surrounding common could offer sacrifices to the Goddess in the hope of gaining good fortune for the coming year.

Samhain was a very magical and spiritual time for the people of Britain, for it was thought to be the day when the Otherworld became visible to all humanity. Under the veil of night, the ghosts of the dead set out to wreak vengeance on the living, and evil marched unbridled across the land. Hence everyone was very aware of their behaviour at this time; if one angered the spirits, one would surely bring misfortune upon themself and their kin.

This last day of the year had a sacred name of its own in the darker mystic circles. So dreaded by the ancients was it, that its true name was never uttered aloud and its rituals were never committed to parchment. The Nameless day, when an old King was dead and a bright new King not yet born, was especially sacred to the dark Queen in her destructive aspect. The shadow of the triple Goddess, and patron of all that is unwholesome in nature was a deity that thrived on humanity's most selfish desires. Like her day, she too was nameless to the pure of heart. For once invoked she was a negative force to be reckoned with, as Sir Cadogan was about to discover.

 

Cadogan had been drinking with his old comrades, Sir Vaugnan and Sir Jeven, who were also stationed at Degannwy for the cold seasons. Later that evening, Cadogan, who was good looking in a snakish kind of way, had managed to win the favour of a young maiden staying at the citadel, and had whisked her back to his chambers for a night of mischief. Samhain, like Beltaine, was renowned for it.

The girl collapsed onto his bed as intoxicated as the knight, her arms outstretched high above her head. ‘Do what thou will, sir,' she invited, as he crawled on top of her, eager to oblige.

Cadogan fumbled with her clothes, his fingers lacking any coordination due to all the mead he'd consumed. The girl giggled as she returned his affection, yet as his lips caressed her neck she began to quiver and shake. Cadogan, assuming this was due to his personal
magnetism, thought nothing of it until she suddenly thrust him from her.

‘Get off me!' Vanora's harsh voice thundered, as she raised herself and stood beside the bed.

‘Art thou playing me for sport, child?' Cadogan was rather annoyed.

‘Imbecile, it be me, Princess Vanora. Remember? Daughter of the great Chiglas? So much for thy proclaimed love for me and desire to assume the role of my father's heir.' Vanora was most displeased, as she observed the body of the maid she had seized.

It was Vanora's voice alright and her manner, yet it was the same maiden he'd been entertaining all night who stared him back. ‘Princess Vanora! How can this be?'

‘Never mind how I did it,' Vanora commanded. ‘What of thy vow?'

Cadogan finally got a grip on the situation and fell to his knees before the maiden. ‘But thee called my love a farce, claiming thy heart was already lost to Prince Caradoc.'

‘Well, I have changed my mind. My father hast decided Caradoc to be a mindless cretin, and thus unfit to succeed him. Hence he be most certainly unfit to claim my hand.'

‘Oh Majesty.' He took her hand to kiss it, but she withdrew it immediately.

‘Not so fast,' she walked away from him, observing his quarters with apparent distaste. ‘I have consulted with the dark forces and my father on the subject of thy origins, Cadogan. It would seem that thou also hast the
right to claim the title and power of a prince, as thy father was the once King of Dyfed. Apparently he was unjustly done out of his title and kingdom by the Desi Clan, with the help of the damn Romans.'

‘Vortipor,' Cadogan uttered the name with a vengeance. ‘Art thou sure of this?'

‘Of course I am!' Vanora snapped. ‘Dost thou think for a moment that we could even consider thee if it were not the case?' Her tone and manner became more ardent. ‘So, if thou dost still desire to lay claim to my hand, Sir Cadogan, to rule Powys one day in my father's stead and claim back thy rightful seat in Dyfed, then,' she moved closer, in encouragement, ‘my father, as with Caradoc, hast set thee a task to prove thy worthiness. If thou art successful, then my hand and title shall be thine.'

Cadogan grinned broadly. In his drunken stupor her proposal sounded even more enticing than the maid's. ‘Whatever service thy mighty father requires of me, consider it done. Just name the quest.'