The Dark Age (4 page)

‘I'm still here,' Tory grumbled as she sat up, rubbing her bruised cheek. ‘No offence, but I had hoped it was just a bad dream.' She sighed and accepted his offering with thanks.

‘I understand,' Maelgwn sympathised, watching her gulp down the mead.

Tory began to splutter and cough. ‘Good grief!' She held her chest, trying to catch her breath.
What is it … 95 per cent proof?

‘Mead,' he said grinning, knowing full well it had quite a kick.

She stared at the warm brew. It reminded her of saki, only it was much sweeter, and on second taste she decided it was rather pleasant. The Prince handed her a large chunk of bread, crammed full of pork, which Tory accepted as if it were a jewel. ‘Maelgwn, thou art a true legend, thank —' She clasped a hand to her mouth, realising she'd addressed the Prince by his first name.

Maelgwn just broke into laughter. ‘Thou art most welcome.'

My, we are in good spirits
, Tory observed. Maelgwn sat smiling, watching her eat. Tory found this rather offputting; it was as if he had something to say but couldn't come out with it. After a few minutes, she could stand it no more. ‘So hast thou been speaking of me?'

‘Aye.' He sounded perplexed. ‘I told my men all I know and saw.'

‘So?' Tory asked. ‘What hast thou decided?'

‘Well.' The Prince sat up straight. ‘I would like thee to show my knights what thou hast shown me, so that they may decide for themselves.'

Tory considered his request and gave him a thumbs-up with her free hand.

Maelgwn presumed this meant yes, and so mimicked the gesture as he got to his feet. ‘I will let them know, they will be most pleased.'

Left alone with her thoughts, Tory's heart sank as she cast her eyes around the tent. She had never before felt homesick, as she was well used to being separated from her parents. She had always taken it for granted that she would see them again. But now, who could say?

 

When Tory emerged from the tent with her bag of tricks, the Prince escorted her to the fire where the rest of the men had congregated.

Cadogan came forward to help Tory with her things. ‘It would seem I have missed all the action this day,' he said, as he relieved her of the weighty backpack and looked to Maelgwn to be introduced.

‘Tory, this be Sir Cadogan, my scout and messenger.'

Cadogan took up her free hand. ‘At thy service.' He bowed forward to lightly kiss it.

Tory slid her hand away, wise to his type. ‘Thanks, but no thanks,' she replied in the nicest possible way, reclaiming her backpack from him.

This brought a round of drunken laughter from the men. ‘She be on to thy game, Cadogan,' called the redheaded knight with amusement.

Maelgwn was glad Tory wasn't so gullible as to fall for Cadogan's charms, and moved on with the rest of the introductions. ‘This be Sir Madoc, who takes care of my ledgers. He be an old, dear friend of my father, the King.'

Madoc stood and bowed to her.

The Prince walked around the fire motioning to his men, who all nodded when introduced. ‘Sir Angus, Sir Rhys, Sir Vaugnan, my watchman.'

‘Never sleep,' Vaugnan said, flashing a grin.

‘Sir Brockwell, thou hast already met.'

Brockwell fixed Tory with his usual glare, and she forced a sweet smile in return.

The Prince thought it best to move on quickly, motioning to the next in line. ‘This be Jeven, my cook in wartime.'

Tory stepped forward and shook his hand. ‘I am very pleased to meet thee, sir. Supper was delicious, I was absolutely famished,' she said to the young man who looked to be the youngest after Brockwell. He was of fair colouring and much smaller build than the other warriors.

Jeven blushed slightly at the attention she paid him. ‘I am glad it was to thy liking, lady.'

Finally, the Prince introduced the large red-headed knight. Cedric stood up, quite serious for a change. ‘I wish to thank thee for my Prince's safe return. I would have had thy throat cut this day —'

Tory shook her head, cutting him short. ‘There be no need to apologise, sir. It was the least I could do after thy Prince spared me from the Saxons.'

He bowed, pleased that he'd said his piece. ‘Thou art most gracious.'

The men were engrossed for hours, truly amazed by the evidence of Tory's claim that she had come from a future time zone. Maelgwn smiled as he watched her joke and drink with his knights as if she were one of them. She was expected to answer a thousand questions at once, and both she and the men were becoming more talkative as the mead took hold.

When the haunting tune from her CD faded, a quiet pause descended on the gathering. The Prince considered this an opportune time to bring up what had been on his mind most of the day. ‘Tory?'

‘Yes, sir,' she answered, still not sure how she should address him.

‘Tell me of the way thee fights.'

This question seemed to strike a nerve in Brockwell, and his dark mood returned.

Tory tried not to notice and obliged the Prince with a full explanation. ‘It be an old art of fighting known as Tae-kwon-do. The principle is that one's strength cannot be based on one's size. Each person has a great source of power within, which can be channelled through a perfect balance of mind, body and nature.' She placed her hands on her solar plexus.

‘Ridiculous!' Brockwell interjected.

He was hushed to silence by the others, who were listening intently.

‘But how did thee maim Brockwell with one hand?' the Prince asked.

‘I wish I had seen this,' Cadogan mumbled, and was immediately reprimanded for interrupting.

Tory paused a moment to consider how she might best explain it. ‘The brain sends messages around the body through a central nervous system, telling the body what thee wants it to do.' Tory looked to the knights who stared at her blankly. Maelgwn seemed to be following though, and nodded for her to continue.

‘Within this system there art certain pressure points that when blocked, prevent any communication between the body and the brain. Thy opponent's limbs, therefore, tend to fail him, either temporarily or permanently, depending upon thy intent.'

‘Amazing,' Maelgwn concluded. ‘Could I be taught this?'

‘No Majesty, she lies.' Brockwell took a stand. ‘She be trying to trick her way into thy favour. It be sorcery, I say.'

Tory rose to face the young knight. ‘Thou art really starting to
bug me
. What dost thou want from me?' She threw her arms in the air. ‘Dost thou want me to prove I could have killed thee today? Alright, I will.' She stormed off.

Brockwell was stunned by her outburst. ‘She be not normal.'

‘Indeed.' Maelgwn laughed at this, shaking his head. ‘What on earth?' He watched Tory drag over a few large logs that had been cut for the fire, and beckoned for Sir Cedric to help her.

Tory had calmed down considerably and was courteous in her instruction to Cedric to place two logs parallel to each other, a third crossing them both. With this accomplished she smiled with satisfaction, and asked Brockwell to approach. When he didn't, Tory placed her hands on her hips and smugly said, ‘Art thou afraid?'

‘I do not fear the likes of thee,' Brockwell replied, as he stepped forward.

Maelgwn supressed a smile as he awaited her next move with growing interest.

‘Question.' Tory put it to Brockwell. ‘Could thee split this piece of wood in two, using only thy bare hand?'

Brockwell briefly examined the heavy log, seeing no purpose in the question. ‘Nay. It would be impossible, even for the strongest man.'

‘Be that so?' Tory asked. ‘Watch and learn.' She knelt on one knee before the logs.

A hush came over the camp as Tory closed her eyes, breathing deeply to concentrate and centre herself. She joined her hands in prayer position, then tested her aim, bringing the side of her hand to rest on the middle of the target.
Focus
, her mind instructed as she raised her hand. With her eyes fixed on her point of contact, Tory let loose a mighty cry and brought her hand down towards the great hunk of timber. The inconceivable force behind the blow split the wood down the centre.

The knights were aghast for a second before they broke into a round of applause.

‘Bravo,' cried Cadogan, giving her a standing ovation.

‘Most impressive,' agreed Madoc.

Tory was oblivious to their adulation as she raised herself to face Brockwell, pointing to the splintered wood. ‘That could have been thy skull.'

Brockwell stared at it blankly, knowing he would have trouble accomplishing the same feat with an axe. He approached Tory, taking hold of her hand to inspect it. ‘Not even a scratch,' he informed the others.

At this moment, Tory felt his resolve changing. He seemed to take a softer stance, appearing weary and confused. On this note Tory thought it best to take her leave. ‘Gentlemen,' she nodded.

‘Tory,' Maelgwn called for her to wait for him. ‘Where art thou going?' he asked as he reached her.

His gentle tone made her realise she had no idea. ‘To sleep, I suppose. Where doth thou want me?'

The question brought a shy smile from them both, and Maelgwn waved towards to his tent.

‘Where art
thou
going to sleep?' Tory pointed to the Prince, their grins even broader.

‘In
my
tent,' he replied, walking off in that direction.

‘I see.' She considered the option of sleeping outside with the rest of the drunken party but decided the odds for survival were far better inside. She turned to find Maelgwn already waiting with the flap held open for her.

‘The men have not seen a good-looking woman since last winter,' he informed her, just in case she was still debating the option.

‘That's a lot of hormones,' she commented as she reached him.

Whistles sounded from around the fire as Tory disappeared into the tent. Maelgwn motioned for them to quieten down but like any other young, single male, he was enjoying every minute of it.

The Prince followed her in and invited her to sit on the fur rug.

Surely I have been enough entertainment for one night.
Tory was a little worried as this was obviously where he slept, but with a degree of hesitancy she sat down.

‘Thee never answered my question.' Maelgwn removed his cape, spreading it on the ground to sit upon. ‘Could thee teach me thy way of battle?'

‘I doubt thee would have the time or patience. It be more than a way of battle, it be a way of life, a state of mind.' She prodded her backpack to find a soft spot to use as a pillow and leant back on it, too tired to discuss the matter further.

‘Please Tory, I would like to try. I have good need of thee.'

His tone was so heartfelt that Tory sat up again.

‘If thou hast nowhere else to go, come back with us to Mon. It would not seem so at a glance, but I am a wealthy man, thee would be well taken care of,' he told her quite definitely, considering that perhaps he could have put it another way.

‘Art thou offering me a job?' Tory could hardly believe it, her first night in a new time zone and she'd already found employment.

‘Aye, that be it!' He jumped to his feet, relieved that she'd found a way to describe exactly what he wanted from her. ‘Thee could be my …' he clicked his fingers
in search of a suitable title, ‘…adviser! Thee must know about a great many things I do not.'

‘And personal trainer,' Tory added, holding up her hand for a high-five.

Maelgwn looked puzzled but crouched down, holding his hand up in the same fashion.

‘Slap it,' she bade him, and Maelgwn obliged with good force. ‘There you go.' Tory punched his shoulder in assurance as she lay down. ‘Goodnight.'

Maelgwn sat pondering on his state of affairs, still fairly drunk and stimulated by the day's events.
The Dragon returns
. The thought came to him from nowhere, accompanied by a feeling of certainty that he hadn't felt since he was a boy of fifteen and had reclaimed his father's kingdom from his treacherous uncle. Whatever had guided him through that dire time was with him now. He wondered why the King had summoned him home, and what so many Saxons were doing this far west? There was indeed something afoot,
but what
?

Maelgwn lay down on his side to look at Tory, who was already asleep. ‘I believe I was intended to meet thee, also.'

C
ome sunup, the camp was alive with activity as gear was packed on the horses. The knights had been campaigning for many months and were eager to begin the final leg of their journey home.

Cadogan entered the tent and went down on one knee to wake his lord. Yet he was distracted by Tory's shapely form lying to one side of the Prince, and lent over to view her more closely.

‘What doth thou want, Cadogan?'

The knight was startled by Maelgwn's voice. ‘We should go, Sire.'

The Prince sat up, a little woozy at first. ‘We shan't be long,' he instructed, motioning his messenger to the door.

Cadogan dipped his head in response and quickly withdrew.

Maelgwn paused before waking Tory, observing how peaceful she looked — not harrowed or threatened as she had been most of the previous day. ‘Tory.' He shook her gently. ‘It be time to leave.' As Tory began to awake, Maelgwn started to strap on his armour.

‘Oh God,' Tory moaned, trying to lift her head. ‘I would never have imagined it possible for my body to ache this much.' She gasped and fell back onto the fur.

Maelgwn took hold of her around the waist and hoisted her up. ‘Apologies for my means, but we seek to reach Castell Degannwy by evening, home to many of these men.' He helped Tory on with her backpack, placed her sax case in her hand, and turned her around. ‘Thee understands, they art in a hurry.' He guided her outside.

Tory, still half asleep, saw Jeven rushing up to her, with an apple and a large piece of bread in his hands. ‘For the ride,' he explained, handing them to her coyly.

Tory was touched by the gesture. ‘Jeven, thou art an angel, I swear.'

Jeven blushed as he passed her a water bottle made of animal skin. He then bowed and quickly took his leave before any of the others noticed them together.

‘So thou art coming with us?' Brockwell's voice boomed behind her.

Tory took her time turning around to face him. ‘Thy Prince hast offered me a job,' she answered, not fazed by his tone.

Cadogan, who overheard her reply, laughed. ‘I bet he did.'

Neither Tory nor Brockwell appreciated the remark, folding their arms as they glared at him. Maelgwn also caught the comment and approached Cadogan, gripping hold of his knight round the back of the neck. ‘Doth thou have a problem, Sir Cadogan?'

Cadogan froze, realising his impiety. ‘Nay, Majesty.' He closed his eyes, annoyed at himself, as the Prince released him.

‘Pleased to hear it.' Maelgwn turned his attention from the troublemaker to address all his men. ‘Let us make haste if we wish to reach Degannwy by nightfall.'

At his word, all made for their mounts. Tory took up her things, chasing after Brockwell. ‘Wait.'

He turned around, annoyed.

‘May I ask thee something?'

Brockwell's expression lightened a little, though he only nodded in response.

‘Why doth my presence offend thee so?'

Brockwell, eager to get home, was growing impatient. ‘In my experience, I have found it best to be wary of that which I deem unnatural. My only concern be for the welfare of my cousin.' He stared at her a second then took off towards his horse.

Tory was struck as she watched him, and once again she thought. My god, he's like Brian. The way he moved, his stance, even his manner was the same.

Maelgwn pulled his horse up alongside her. ‘Ready?' He reached down to help her mount.

 

For most of the day they'd kept good time, as the terrain they covered was generally rolling green fields and light
forest. But after six hours in the saddle the landscape was becoming more mountainous, and the knights decided to rest before commencing the final homeward stretch.

As Tory dismounted she could smell the sea, and she and the Prince climbed to the top of a hill where she looked out across the ocean. The wild, moist breeze swept through her hair, and she drew a deep breath, enjoying the magnificent view.

‘If we follow the coast we shall reach the citadel by nightfall. The worst of the mountains lie further inland, we have come round them,' Maelgwn explained to her.

‘I'm pleased to hear it,' Tory assured him wholeheartedly, rubbing her behind.

Maelgwn laughed at this. ‘It will be over soon, I promise.'

As they turned to walk back, Tory had to ask. ‘This citadel wouldn't happen to have a hot bath, perchance?'

‘Of course,' Maelgwn declared. ‘I shall have one drawn for thee as soon as we arrive.' Maelgwn took off his long cape and threw it around her shoulders.

‘I am not cold.' Tory went to take it off.

‘Please, I do not know what my people will make of thee dressed as thou art.'

So Tory agreed; it made good sense to keep the cloak on, and with the promise of a hot bath at Castell Degannwy, she was as eager as the men to get under way.

 

Four hours later the knights stopped on the crest of a great hill. From here one could see the citadel of
Degannwy, which was the official entrance to the kingdom of Gwynedd. This grand fort stood upon the largest of two craggy hillocks, and supported a flourishing little community that spread out around its high stone walls.

‘Behold,' cried Madoc, pulling his horse alongside Tory and the Prince. ‘The twin hills of the Gwynedd stronghold.' The old knight took a deep breath, obviously proud and happy to see his home.

‘Well, what are we waiting for?' the Prince declared.

Tory clung on for dear life as the powerful black stallion took off down the hill as fast as it was able, with the knights following close behind.

To save being detained, the Prince's party raced through the outlying village. Cadogan had been sent on ahead to inform the King of his son's return, thus the knights found the portcullis already raised. A road led between the hillocks, through another large gateway, and into the courtyard within the walls of the citadel.

The Prince kept his promise to Tory, and as soon as they arrived had her whisked away to his chambers.

Fenalla, the frumpy head maid at King Caswallon's court, was under instruction to arrange a hot bath, a meal and mead. While this pleased Tory no end, it also suited the Prince; he needed his mysterious guest to be out of sight, at least until he'd decided exactly how much the court should know about her.

Without stopping to speak with the well-wishing servants, Maelgwn made haste to his father's quarters where the King would be residing this late in the day.

The Prince pushed open the huge oak doors of the King's library, which remained from the time of the Roman withdrawal. Cunedda, his great great grandfather, along with his eight sons, had come down from the Manau Guotodin (Firth of Forth) under instruction from Rome to restore order to the kingdom of Gwynedd and beyond. Cunedda had made this grand fortification his base and it had belonged to their family ever since.

‘Percival.' Maelgwn sought the attention of a frail old man working alone in the room. He was sitting by the fire with quill in hand, recording figures on parchment. The old soul had been so caught up in his work that he hadn't heard the doors open. He looked up, not recognising Maelgwn at first.

‘Prince Maelgwn? Be that the young heir of Gwynedd under all that hair?' Percival stood up, his old bones creaking. ‘I mistook thee for a Saxon.' He laughed as Maelgwn approached and embraced him.

‘It be good to see thee.' The Prince held him at arm's length for a moment then strolled around the room to take in the familiar surroundings. ‘Where be my father?'

‘Why he left for the court of Chiglas only yesterday,' Percival informed him, as if it were common knowledge.

‘Chiglas! Why?'

‘Why? The wedding, Sire.'

Maelgwn was set at ease, reaching for a jug of mead on the table by the fire. He filled a goblet for himself and Percival, taking a long swig. ‘Ah, my father's mead, there be nothing like it. So tell me, who shall be wed?'

Percival suddenly went white. ‘But, I thought thee knew, Sire?' He seemed to want to avoid the issue, making Maelgwn all the more curious.

‘Knew what, Percival?' The Prince smiled, amused by his game. ‘Who shall be wed?'

‘It be thy own wedding, Sire. Hast the King not told thee?'

Maelgwn stood, enraged. ‘What! Why?'

Percival humbled himself, afraid he was in trouble. ‘It be not my place to say, Sire. The King said he would meet thee on Mon, presently.'

Maelgwn was so incensed that he began to pace to and fro like a caged beast. ‘I will not marry the daughter of Chiglas.' He found this easy to say to Percival, but to his father — that was a different story. Still, it didn't seem fair to take out his frustrations on poor Percival, so Maelgwn left the room. ‘Thee can tell my father, I am most displeased.' He slammed the doors behind him.

Maelgwn was storming through the hall in a fit of rage when he met Brockwell who was on his way to a feast to be held in their honour.

‘Art thou coming to drink with us, cousin?' Brockwell took hold of him by the shoulder as they walked together.

‘Maybe later, I have a lot on my mind at present.'

‘Already?' Brockwell was amazed. ‘But thee only just arrived.'

 

Fenalla carried out her duties in a huff, giving an occasional grunt in objection to Tory's appearance.

When Tory finally found herself alone, she dug out her CD player to listen to some music and relax. After undressing and wrapping herself in a towel she made for the bath, taking a goblet of mead with her.

The Prince's chambers were spectacular. She would never have imagined that a building as grand as this would exist in Britain during this time. Large stone stairs led up to the steaming pool of water that was over twice the size of a normal bath. It was distinctly Roman in design, and had a large open fire at the end to boil the huge pots of water it took to fill it.

‘Well I must say, I am impressed.' Tory immersed herself in the luxurious bath and from there studied the rest of the room in the glow of candle and torch light. She admired the solid, raw furnishings, the thick curtains of Prussian blue, and the ornate tapestries that depicted the battles and daily life of Gwynedd. ‘Yep, I could live here.' She smiled, indulging in the splendour of her surroundings.

As she rolled over to float on the water, she was startled by the sound of the door closing and quickly submerged herself once more.

An equally stunned page was turning circles upon discovering her, not knowing what to do. ‘Forgive me, lady,' he stuttered out. ‘I am Selwyn, the Prince's squire. I be just on my way to attend to my duties when I heard thy beautiful music.' His eyes looked everywhere but at her to seek its source.

‘I am pleased to meet thee.' Tory reached for her towel but the door opened again before she could grab it.

Maelgwn and Brockwell entered, neither of them noticing Tory or Selwyn at first.

‘But the men will be disappointed if thou dost not attend,' Brockwell argued.

Maelgwn spied his squire making himself scarce and removed his gunna, handing it to Selwyn. ‘Please Calin, I just need some time to think.' The Prince seated himself, holding up his feet so that Selwyn could remove his boots. ‘I will come down later, I promise.'

‘Excuse me, but this was a private moment,' Tory interjected, a mite discomforted by her predicament.

All three men burst into laughter; Maelgwn had completely forgotten about his guest. ‘Well, I have no objection.' His good mood returned as he noticed the soft music and reclined to enjoy it.

Brockwell, now clean and shaven, folded his arms and took a few steps towards Tory, smiling broadly. ‘Well, well, well, what have we here?'

‘I am warning thee, Brockwell …' Tory choked on her words, shocked to find her brother's face staring back at her; he even had the same dimple on his chin. She froze, wide eyed at the discovery.

‘What be wrong?' The Prince stood.

Tory held up a hand motioning them to stay back. ‘I am fine, please. I would just like to be able to dress without thy entire guard in here.'

‘Of course. Brockwell, Selwyn, if thee would both excuse us.' As Maelgwn showed them to the door, he wondered what had frightened her.

Us!
Tory grabbed her towel, managing to wrap herself up and take a seat on the bath before the Prince returned.

Maelgwn was rather surprised to find that this woman from the future was just as modest as any lady in his court. So he avoided looking directly at her, walking over to stoke up the fire. ‘What scared thee just now?'

‘Oh nothing.' She jumped up to pull on a sweatshirt and pants as soon as his back was turned. ‘Brockwell just appeared so different all cleaned up. More sort of … handsome.'

‘I see,' the Prince said flatly, as if he either didn't like or believe her statement.

Tory made herself comfortable on some large cushions opposite Maelgwn and began to comb the knots out of her hair. The Prince didn't stir from his reflections for some time, his eyes lost in the open flame. Tory wondered what was on his mind as she watched him in silence.

‘Tell me of thy home, Tory.' He sounded far away. ‘Do people get what they want there?'

An odd question.
She paused to think about it. ‘Those who believe they can, do. Much the same as here, I expect.'

Maelgwn looked at her, his interest aroused.

‘For although the civilised world be much larger in the future, it continues to be plagued by crime and war. And thanks to modern weaponry, some nations can destroy entire cities and their occupants without ever leaving home.'

‘But thy people must have laws?'

Tory gave half a laugh. ‘Indeed. But often it be the people who make the laws, who art the ones who break them — organised crime we call it. What the Saxons
make a livelihood from here, slaughtering and looting, some do for fun where I come from. That be why I learnt self-defence,' she concluded with a sigh.