The Dark Age (7 page)

Lady Gladys usually arrived just as the meditation was coming to a close, and everyday she would join Tory for lunch. Lady Gladys had never invited the Prince to eat with them; he was excused to have lunch with his knights and to attend to his stately duties. Lady Gladys knew all about Tory's origins, even though neither had told Maelgwn. Tory could not have kept the truth from this woman, and she knew Maelgwn trusted his aunt, or he would not have introduced them.

Lady Gladys found little intelligent female conversation in the court, and so she looked forward to her discussions with Tory; her favourite topic being the future. Tory had become like an afternoon TV soapie to Lady Gladys, who laughed and delighted in her tales. This stately woman had lived through many an ordeal in her lifetime, so nothing much shocked her.

 

Katren had blossomed in the care of Drusilla, the head maid in the household at Aberffraw. Her bruises had faded, and so she began to wear her hair pulled back off her face and curled at the end in Roman fashion. She'd adjusted to life at the court with considerable ease and, unlike Tory, looked the part. As well as having charmed most of the household's staff with her large soulful eyes and soft smiles, Katren had also befriended Alma and Cara. She attended the two young maidens in the free
time she found in the morning after bringing Tory and the Prince a small breakfast. Katren, born and bred on the common, seemed like rather a wild child to Cara and Alma, who were bored with their rigid life at court. The pair enjoyed the story of Katren's rescue from her ‘disgusting pig of a husband'. She told them the gossip she'd overheard when serving lunch to Tory and Lady Gladys, and stories about the royal knights that she heard about the house. Katren's favourite knight was the young and handsome Sir Brockwell.

Needless to say, Tory had become almost an idol to Cara and Alma, who hadn't seen a trace of her since the day she'd arrived. Only Katren, Lady Gladys, Sir Brockwell and the Prince were allowed into the north tower or to enter any of the four towers that led to the open walkways of the roof. Guards had been posted on the walls of the outer bailey, so the roof was completely private and could not be seen by anyone.

Katren had refused to tell the girls what really went on in the tower. Yet after several days of persistent nagging, she cracked, making them swear they'd never tell another soul.

 

At first Tory didn't know what to do in the afternoons after lunch with Lady Gladys. She hadn't had any time to herself for so long that it seemed almost boring.

By the third afternoon of peace, Tory hung over the sea-wall staring at the water. It was a hot day and, frankly, all she wanted to do was to strip off her clothes and dive into the ocean. ‘Damn, this was supposed to be a holiday.'

Growing more restless, she returned to the tower and changed into a black one-piece swimsuit and a pair of bicycle shorts. What the hell, Tory figured, as nobody came up there anyway. She settled down on her towel to catch a few rays.

 

Later that day, as Maelgwn was walking across the courtyard, he stopped to listen to a haunting tune that resonated down around the walls of the inner bailey.

‘Maelgwn?' Lady Gladys came outside to join him. ‘From whence comes that lovely music?'

‘It be Tory. Listen.' Maelgwn was completely lost in it.

‘'Tis beautiful, darling … but surely it cannot be helpful to thy secret.' She smiled, making good sense as always.

 

Tory finished the piece to hear the unexpected sound of applause. She turned to find Selwyn, the prince's squire, standing in the doorway, his eyes lowered to the ground.

‘Please forgive my insolence, lady. I mean no disrespect. It be just that I am a trained harpist and can fully appreciate a piece well played.'

‘Thou art excused, Selwyn,' she assured him.

Selwyn was all of nineteen and gorgeous to look at, though he was of a smaller build than the other men. His fine, fair hair fell to his shoulders in a bob, his eyes were deep blue and his face was open and full of expression. Tory thought that in her day he would be considered quite trendy.

‘Be thine instrument here at Aberffraw, perhaps we could play together?'

‘Oh, lady …' Selwyn was filled with excitement, until he spied the Prince approaching.

‘Whoops!' she said quietly, as she turned to discover his concern.

Maelgwn waved for Selwyn to take his leave. ‘Thee knows thou art banned from here,' he scolded.

Selwyn, disappointed, did as the Prince bade.

‘Hold on,' Tory called after him. ‘Please, Majesty. Selwyn only wants to practise his music with me, and I've been so bored these past few afternoons that I'd be most grateful for the distraction.'

This was the first time Tory had ever called him Majesty, and Maelgwn rather liked it. ‘Alright. But thee will have to practise inside the tower … for now.'

Tory threw her arms around his neck. ‘Thank thee so much.' She let him go before bounding inside to get changed.

‘My pleasure.' Maelgwn smiled after her, marvelling at her attire. He looked to his page, who seemed amused by it all. ‘Well, off with thee then. Do not keep the lady waiting.'

‘Thank thee, Majesty. I be greatly honoured this day.' Selwyn ran to fetch his harp.

From then on, Tory's days were filled. In the early evening she would take supper with Katren. The girl had begun to ask questions about the way Tory fought and why she meditated, so Tory proposed teaching her a few exercises for her own protection.

Cara and Alma got wind of this a few days later, and soon Tory found them in the tower, accompanied by Katren who introduced them to each other. Tory was
extremely concerned as she considered their request, as the pair hardly looked the type for her tuition. Alma was fair and petite, with wide eyes the colour of acorns. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun, which made her the very image of a little china doll. Cara was just as slender, though much taller. Her dark, copper brown hair fell in loose ringlets halfway down her back, and although her hazel eyes gave her a more fiery appearance, even she seemed too prim for the request they were making.

‘Katren, thou promised not to tell anyone. The Prince will kill me if he finds I am corrupting the young maidens here,' Tory appealed to her, emphasising the sensitiveness of the situation.

‘Doth not every woman have the right to defend herself?' Katren took the same stand Tory would adopt herself. ‘Cara, Alma, and I have already thought of a good excuse to be here.'

‘And what might that be?' Tory asked.

‘Singing practice,' they announced in unison.

‘We all have fine voices and I have heard thee sing, thy voice be as pretty as a bird,' Katren continued. ‘I have spoken with Selwyn. He will tell Prince Maelgwn that he be accompanying us on the harp, but he will really be keeping watch by the door downstairs.'

‘Please, lady.' Cara came forward. ‘Thee cannot imagine how drab life hast been at court.'

Tory could relate to their dilemma. ‘Alright. We will start tomorrow night.'

A
fter three weeks of training, the Prince had taken to the oriental fighting skills like a fish to water. He and Tory had recently begun sparring and had been delighting in toppling each other ever since.

Tory felt relaxed in the Prince's company, as she was not expected to humble herself before him as everyone else was. Maelgwn, on the other hand, was pleased to have one person in his world with whom he could be himself.

Taliesin had also been this way with him, and Tory made him feel as playful, cocky, and sure of himself as he had been in his youth. The Prince found himself sneaking up to Tory's room after the rest of the household had made for bed. She would read to him
from her books or speak to him of the future, as he lay across the end of her bed. Some nights, they would talk for hours. He would have tried to seduce her weeks ago had he not known about his damn marriage.

 

Maelgwn was being particularly attentive to Tory this morning. He knew she was growing annoyed by his lack of concentration, but he just couldn't seem to focus. They were practising throws and holds. Maelgwn started the exercise to the side of Tory, bent over her with his arm across her back. But he became so interested in the view he had down her shirt that he showed little resistance to her counterattack.

Tory stood up, angered by his lack of discipline. ‘Let's try it the other way around, shall we?'

Maelgwn grinned. ‘I thought thee would never ask.'

This time his heart was in it. He twisted out from under her hold, and executing a sweeping kick to the back of her legs, flung her backwards to the ground. Maelgwn pinned her legs to the mat with his knees and stretched each of her arms above her head, maintaining a firm grasp of her wrists. He smiled down at her triumphant, raising his eyebrows as if to say, not bad hey?

‘Much better!' Tory announced, pleased. ‘I yield.' She waited for him to ease off, but he didn't. His dark eyes gazed at her and he held her fast.

‘I have dreamt of thee,' he whispered, and their lips gently met.

A surge of adrenalin rushed through them. Maelgwn released her legs, sliding himself in between them. Tory
didn't care about the repercussions of her actions now; she was tired of having to suppress how she felt about the Prince. She wrapped her legs around Maelgwn's powerful form and drew her body up to meet his in encouragement.

The expectant lovers didn't hear the door open and close downstairs. Brockwell came to a stop at the top of the staircase, rather perturbed by what he saw. ‘Majesty.' He waited. ‘Majesty!'

‘What!' Maelgwn snapped, as Tory ducked out from beneath him.

‘Thy father, King Caswallon, be here with thine
bride
,' Brockwell announced, with a blatant lack of diplomacy.

‘Thine bride!' Tory looked at Maelgwn, who'd sprung to his feet in a fluster at the sound of his father's name. ‘When were you planning to tell me exactly? Thee told me a barefaced lie and Brockwell be my witness.'

Brockwell gave Tory a fixed nod to confirm.

Maelgwn didn't know quite what to say; he had no excuse. The dream he'd had the night before must have caused him to take leave of his senses. ‘Please Tory, I have no time to explain, I have to go.'

Tory ignored his plea and stormed outside.

Brockwell had to grin at Maelgwn's discomposure. ‘He be waiting, Majesty.'

Maelgwn swung round to confront his champion. ‘Why, Calin?'

‘It not be right that thee should keep her hidden in this tower and use her ignorance to thine own advantage.'
Brockwell sounded as angered by his cousin's behaviour as Maelgwn was about his untimely betrayal.

‘This be a change of heart … coming from one who wanted to slit her throat!'

‘An
honest
mistake, Sire.' Brockwell suppressed his feelings and motioned the Prince to the stairs.

Maelgwn realised he was wrong, this predicament was of his own making. ‘Forgive me, Calin. I do not know what hast got into me.' Maelgwn paused to gather his wits. ‘I truly need thy assistance this day, as I am not sure that I shall come through it.'

‘Go, change, and greet thy father.' Brockwell's tone softened upon sensing his cousin's despair. ‘Thee will find him in the the west wing gallery and …' he gave Maelgwn fair warning, ‘thy brother hast returned with him. In the meantime, I shall see if I can calm the she-devil on thy behalf.'

Maelgwn placed a hand on Brockwell's shoulder, ‘I cannot thank thee enough. Thou art a true champion, Calin.'

Brockwell found Tory in her favourite spot, leaning on the sea-wall, looking out over the ocean.

She heard footsteps and even though her eyes were fixed on the blue horizon, she guessed it was Brockwell and not the Prince who'd come to pacify her. The gentle lull of the ocean and the warmth of the sunshine had calmed her, though she didn't look to him as she spoke. ‘How long hast everyone known, Brockwell?'

The knight took a seat beside her, looking out in the opposite direction towards the village. ‘Only Maelgwn, myself and Lady Gladys know. The Prince
confided in us the night we arrived here. He was only told of it at Degannwy.' Brockwell noticed Tory's expression darken. ‘But I do swear to thee, Maelgwn hast never even met the girl.'

Tory turned her large, green eyes his way. ‘Hast thou met her?'

He smiled at the question. ‘Aye, just then.'

‘Be she beautiful?' Tory looked back to the ocean, not really wanting to know.

‘Aye, I suppose, but I doubt she will be to Maelgwn's taste, no …'

Brockwell cut himself short, and Tory glanced over to catch him holding his hands cupped in front of his chest.

‘Let's just say, thee need not fear comparison.'

She felt mildly appeased by his remark. ‘Thou art a good friend to him, Calin.' Tory placed a hand on his shoulder in her first open show of affection toward him. She missed having Brian as a confidant and Brockwell was so like him. ‘May I call thee Calin?'

Both sides of his mouth dropped to a mope as he considered the request. ‘Well, it is my real name.'

‘Is not Brockwell thy real name too?'

‘Nay, Brockwell was my father's name. He was a fierce warrior, so they tell me. He died when I was very young.' Calin became melancholy a moment, then shrugged off his sadness. ‘Sir Calin dost not sound very ominous. So when I was knighted, I asked to be dubbed in my father's name.'

‘Well, you seem to do a fine job living up to his reputation. So then,
Calin
, allow me to ask thee, do you
think I am making a contribution to the court at Aberffraw?'

Brockwell nodded, unsure as to where the conversation was heading.

‘Then, should I not be allowed to be part of it?'

Brockwell jumped to his feet, alarmed. ‘Thee could not, not as thou art!' he spluttered, glancing at her attire.

She grabbed his hand to implore him. ‘Surely I can be dressed to appear like any other maiden here. Please Calin, or I shall surely go mad.'

What could he say? He agreed with her. He placed his hand on hers, his mind ticking over. ‘If we give Maelgwn no warning then he cannot object. But there be much to consider here. Maelgwn's fears should not be taken lightly for he hast had good reason to keep thee a secret thus far.' He'd heard Maelgwn speak of his concerns about the safety of his father's kingdom on many occasions. Yet, perhaps they could use Tory's introduction to the court to their advantage, and dispel the rumours generated by her presence here at the same time.

‘We shall need help,' he resolved.

 

Maelgwn took time readying himself; he was not looking forward to confronting his father, meeting this woman, or being united with his long lost brother. He tried briefly to meditate in the hope of becoming centred and calm, but without Tory to guide him it was useless.

‘I need her on my side.' He scolded himself as he marched down the long hall, the doors to the gallery in
his sights. ‘I must make my peace with her before this day be over.'

As his hand came to rest on the handle of the large door, he could hear the murmurs of those who awaited him. He held his pendant of the Dragon and took a deep breath.

The Prince entered the gallery to find most of the knights in attendance, along with his father's officials and personal guard. The ladies of the house, with the exception of Lady Gladys, were standing by the tall, slender windows. Maelgwn spotted two ladies who were unfamiliar to him, one of whom he assumed was his bride to be. He spied his brother, Caradoc, in the corner, engrossed in conversation with Cadogan. I should have known they'd seek each other out, they always were as thick as thieves, he thought. This was a worry. Maelgwn had hoped to keep Tory a secret from Caradoc, so he summoned Madoc.

‘Can I help thee, Majesty?'

Maelgwn urged him closer. ‘Get Cadogan away from Caradoc, I do not trust them.'

Madoc quietly agreed.

‘Send him on an errand of some description … I want him gone for at least a few days.'

Madoc nodded and went about his bidding.

‘Maelgwn, my boy.' King Caswallon held out his hand to his son.

The Prince's expression was solemn as he went down on one knee before the King. ‘Father.' He kissed the ring on his father's hand. ‘I be comforted to see that thou hast returned to us in good health.'

At this the King laughed. ‘I was in no danger, I assure thee. And I must say, thou art appearing exceedingly well thyself.'

But Maelgwn was not so convinced of his father's safety. ‘I need to speak with thee at once.
Alone
.'

‘Later. Percival hast already spoken to me of thy concern, but now I insist thee meet thy bride before thee raise an objection to her.'

It will not make any difference, Maelgwn thought, though he nodded in accordance with his father's wishes.

 

Tory studied her image in the mirror with reservation. She was dressed in an outfit that had once belonged to the late Queen, who had been small of frame like herself. The linen dress, or kirtle, was pale green and simple in design. It hung from her shoulders in soft waves and looked rather like a long nightshirt. Over it she wore a thickly woven tunic, or gunna, which had sleeves to the elbow, and fell to her knees. It was of a very deep green, almost emerald, which nicely complemented her eyes. Tory fastened the gunna in tight at the waist with her black leather belt. The women wore no undergarments at this time of year, but Tory wasn't too comfortable with that idea. She chose to wear her T-shirt, jeans and steel-capped boots underneath, which were well hidden by the dress.

‘Goodness, I almost look like a lady.'

‘What doth thou mean,
almost
?' Lady Gladys replied. She'd braided strands of hair from each side of Tory's face and fastened them in the centre at the back,
leaving the rest of her hair loose. When she'd finished, she paused to view the result. ‘Thee appears as refined as Queen Sorcha herself once did, bless her soul. Hast Maelgwn not told thee that thou bears a likeness to her?'

Tory didn't know if this was good news or not. ‘He never mentioned it, no.'

‘Maelgwn absolutely adored her, everyone did.' She paused briefly as the memories came flooding back, then sighed. ‘If the King dost not take an instant liking to thee, I shall be very surprised.' Lady Gladys was struck by a thought. ‘In fact, we had best couple thee with someone, save Caswallon or Caradoc do take a fancy to thee.'

Tory's eyes opened wide in horror as Lady Gladys concocted a strategy. A smile crossed her face as she made haste for the stairwell. ‘Calin.'

‘Lady Gladys, what art thou thinking?'

She turned back to Tory, taking up her hands in her own, ‘Thee must trust me, little one.'

 

The Prince was having great difficulty engaging Vanora, his intended bride, in conversation. The girl was barely eighteen years of age, ten years younger than himself. Her hair, as dark as his own, fell in tight curls around her face and over her shoulders. She had a round yet delicate face and ivory skin, flushed rose red in her cheeks and mouth. She was taller than the other young maidens and her body was long and slim like a reed. The Princess, however beautiful, had eyes as cold and dark as ebony, and Maelgwn thought her a poor compensation for the bounty he'd forfeited that morning.

Lady Gladys entered the room, and the Prince excused himself politely then left to pursue his aunt who had taken a seat by the King. Over the rest of the conversations going on in the room, Maelgwn heard Lady Gladys inform the King that she wanted to introduce a special guest who was presently residing at the house.

The doors opened and Maelgwn turned to see Tory enter on Brockwell's arm. He felt his temperature begin to rise.
Have they gone mad?
He should have been furious but his heart leapt at the sight of Tory dressed thus, and he felt compelled to fall to his knees; she looked so much like his mother, the Queen. This resemblance didn't go unnoticed by the older members of the court, and their voices were hushed as Brockwell proudly led her to the King.

Caswallon was stunned as he stood to greet her. ‘Sorcha,' he uttered under his breath.

Lady Gladys wore a cool smile of satisfaction as she rose to introduce her guest. ‘Majesty, this be Tory Alexander, a traveller left stranded on British soil.'

Tory was nervous, aware that everyone in the room was watching her, and she didn't dare venture a look in Maelgwn's direction. Instead, she curtsied, her eyes lowered as she'd been instructed.

‘Thy son saved her from Saxon cutthroats in the south-east,' Lady Gladys informed the King.

He extended his hand to Tory and she went down on one knee before him, kissing his ring.

‘Arise, dear girl,' he instructed, drawing her up by the hand, completely enchanted. ‘She be so pretty,
Maelgwn. Why did thee not tell me of this find?' Caswallon looked at Maelgwn who was at a loss for words. The King turned his gaze back to Tory, a million memories flooding his mind. ‘Afraid I might snatch her up for myself, no doubt.'