The Dark Age

by Traci Harding

  Maelgwn was beginning to think his men were right about this girl; he didn’t believe one word of her tale. Still, he was interested to see how far she’d go before he got the truth out of her. So he took a seat and beckoned to Tory to go ahead with her defence.

  She smiled meekly and dived into her bag. Thank you Mum, for giving me an instamatic. Tory brought out the camera for his inspection, and the Prince reached for it.

  ‘Careful,’ Tory said, and he quickly withdrew his hands. This made her smile. ‘It be harmless, I promise. Thee must just be careful not to drop it, as it be very fragile.’ Tory offered it to him again.

  Maelgwn looked over the camera, not game to touch it. ‘Thee also appears fragile, yet thou hast quite a sting. Thou hast my leave to explain.’

  ‘Okay.’ Tory walked a few paces away and squatted down, looking at the Prince through the lens. ‘This be a camera, it takes pictures.’

  ‘It draws?’

  ‘Sort of.’ Tory glanced around to get a light reading. She didn’t want to use the flash unless she had to, as no doubt it would startle him. ‘It will be ready in just one moment.’

  The Prince smiled, delighted at the thought. Just as Tory took the picture, however, he realised how preposterous it sounded and his stern expression returned.

  ‘The smile looked better,’ Tory informed him as the camera ejected the photograph. She gave it a couple of gentle blows then held it under her jacket to develop. ‘Shan’t be long, it has to sit in the dark for a moment.’

  The very dubious Prince sat waiting with his arms folded. As she pulled the photo out to view, Tory broke into a huge smile. My father would kill for this.

  ‘May I see?’ Maelgwn’s curiosity got the better of him.

  ‘Only if thee promises I can keep it.’

  A gentle smile graced his lips as he viewed the picture. ‘Be this how I appear to thee? Thee must think me barbaric, like the Saxons.’ He stroked his beard as if he’d only just noticed it was there.

  ‘Not at all,’ Tory smiled. ‘I assure thee, I do not look my best either.’ The Prince laughed and Tory felt the air of mistrust begin to lift.

  ‘What else dost thou have in there? Show me more.’

  Tory assembled her saxophone, an alto, and played a short, sultry piece that met with great approval from the Prince. Maelgwn loved the music of his court bards, and he found this high-pitched horn every bit as beautiful as the harp or pan flute.

  Then, while Tory set up her CD Walkman and speakers, Maelgwn picked up one of the discs. He moved it to and fro, catching beams of sunlight which reflected a rainbow around the forest.

  ‘Amazing, what does it do?’

  ‘It plays music too.’ Tory explained simply. ‘Here.’ She gestured to the disc in his hand.

  Upon seeing the Prince’s selection, a heavy metal album, she said, ‘I don’t think thou art quite ready for this just yet.’ She flicked through her collection. ‘I believe this may be more to thy taste.’

  A soft piano piece began to fill the air, and the Prince stood astounded. ‘By the Goddess! I have never heard the like.’

  ‘It be piano,’ Tory whispered, not wanting to break the mood she’d created.

  The Prince closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘It be the most beautiful music I have ever heard.’

  The way he said this made Tory feel that this brief moment of pleasure was well needed. He wandered slowly around the small clearing, lost for a time in another world.

  Could he possibly have something to do with my interest in this period of history? What if I never make it home? Will I again be born in the twentieth century to aimlessly search for information on the Dark Age, without a clue as to why?

  Suddenly the Prince appeared disturbed, so Tory switched off the music. Now only the sounds of the forest could be heard. Maelgwn had drawn his sword and was watching the forest with caution. Tory remained low, even though she’d heard no sound out of the ordinary.

  All was still a moment, then two bowmen emerged from the cover of the trees. There was little Maelgwn could do, his sword against two bows.

  The pair yelled instructions in a Germanic tongue, and at a glance Tory guessed them to be outlaws. They were very fair haired and more primitive in appearance than any of the Britons she’d encountered thus far. These men were tall, but not as heavyset as Maelgwn’s men.

  The Prince dropped his sword as the bowmen ventured into the clearing. They circled him, gloating over their prize; they could see that he was a rich man. One stood back to cover their captive, while the more adventurous of the two approached Maelgwn to relieve him of his riches.

  Tory took this as her cue and stood, letting loose a whistle to draw their attention.

  It would seem the pair had been so focused on the Prince that they hadn’t spotted Tory. The knave closest to the Prince was delighted at the discovery and stepped towards her.

  Maelgwn had to smile at the two unsuspecting thieves. Tory noticed this and winked to assure him she had a plan.

  The knave dropped his bow to take her in hand. He eyed her over, expressing his pleasure to his accomplice who sniggered in response.

  Maelgwn took a step forward but the bowman interrupted any thoughts he may have had for her rescue.

  As the man pulled Tory close to him, she could barely breathe for the stench of his body. I’ll die of suffocation. He grasped her back with both hands and ground her against his groin; his legs were spread wide apart, as he was much taller than she. ‘Perfect!’ she whispered to her assailant and, gathering all the power she could muster, promptly kneed him in the groin. When the man keeled over she belted his face with her knee, so hard she broke his nose.

  This distraction was all Maelgwn needed, and he reclaimed his sword to run the outlaw through. He turned to find the other knave out to settle the score with Tory. The Prince approached from behind and severed the man’s head with one clean stroke of his blade.

  Tory freaked as she watched the head roll across the ground; the man’s body lay twitching where it fell. ‘Art thou crazy!’ she yelled, hysterical. ‘I could have knocked him out or something, thee did not have to kill him.’ She began to tremble from the shock and her stomach turned at the sight of so much blood.

  Maelgwn didn’t understand this at all. ‘But he would have killed thee.’

  She was going to be sick. ‘I can take care of myself. What be wrong with you people?’ She darted off into the bushes, leaving the Prince rather bemused.

  By the time she’d returned the bodies had been dragged into the undergrowth. Maelgwn stood with the reins in his hand, ready to leave. Tory approached him, ashamed of her behaviour. ‘I want to apologise, I did not mean …’

  Maelgwn waved her to silence, tossing her an apple. ‘If thou host recovered, we should make haste to reach the others by nightfall.’ He mounted his horse and smiled. ‘Or Brockwell shall have the men believing thou hast turned me to stone.’

  After clearing the forest, the terrain was more obliging and they travelled at a steady pace for the rest of the day.

  The Prince slowed his horse to a stop on the crest of a hill. He spotted smoke from a camp fire and smiled, pleased that dinner would be well under way. ‘Art thou hungry?’ he asked Tory, who was dozing against his back.

  She groaned in pleasure at the thought of food. ‘I could eat a horse. No offence.’ She patted the animal without moving her exhausted body.

  ‘Well hopefully that shan’t be necessary,’ the Prince answered as they galloped down the hill.

  The camp site was a hive of activity. A wild pig, slain by the warriors, was roasting over the fire. The Prince’s tent had been raised, and torches were lit around the encampment to discourage thieves. Most of the men had now settled by the fire, telling stories of their battles this day over much mead.

  As the Prince rode into the camp, his men rushed to meet him. All except Brockwell, who appeared rather perturbed.

  Madoc, the eldest amongst them, was the first
to reach the Prince. ‘Majesty, I shall never leave thy side again. I have been out of my mind with worry. What would I have told the King?’

  Maelgwn dismounted in good cheer, the smell of pork filling his nostrils. He slapped his old companion on the back, assuring him. ‘’Twas no need to worry, Sir Madoc, I had Tory here to aid me.’ Maelgwn turned to help her down, and no sooner had her feet hit the ground than Brockwell was in her face.

  ‘Thou dost not belong here.’

  Tory took a step back, holding her hand to her head. ‘So the Saxons failed to catch thee, what a shame.’

  Maelgwn intervened before the situation got out of hand. ‘Brockwell, I swear this very day, I would have been murdered by thieves if not for the services of this gracious lady.’ As Brockwell was about to protest, the Prince added staunchly, ‘And I will not hear another word said against her.’

  Brockwell glared at Tory a moment before withdrawing to the fire.

  ‘So thou hast seen a bit of action, Sire?’ a knight, roughly Maelgwn’s age, inquired.

  Tory noticed the man’s steely blue eyes fixed on her. He was only of average build, but seemed a rather menacing character nevertheless.

  The Prince took Tory by the arm and led her towards his tent. ‘Cadogan, I have seen things this day I never before imagined.’

  ‘Do tell, Majesty.’ Cadogan smiled with open envy as he watched Tory disappear into the tent.

  ‘Later,’ the Prince said, closing the tent flap behind him.

  Tory offloaded her bags and Maelgwn motioned her to a large fur on the ground.

  ‘Rest, thou art safe here. I shall wake thee presently with food and drink.’

  ‘Sounds marvellous,’ Tory replied, crawling onto the thick fur rug.

  Maelgwn freed himself from the confines of his armour, watching Tory while she rested. The candle beside her cast a light across the mark of the Dragon on her forehead and he studied it a moment. The Prince believed the story of Tory’s origins, or at least he believed that she believed it. But if she was telling the truth, who had brought her back to this time and branded her with his mark? Was it sorcery or coincidence that she appeared so much like the late Queen of Gwynedd? There was only one man Maelgwn knew who had the knowledge and skill to carry out such a feat, but he had not seen the old wizard for over a decade.

  Nevertheless, she was beautiful, the Prince concluded, when she was not conducting herself like a man. He made a mental note to inquire about her methods of fighting as he left to join his men outside.

  Maelgwn gave Tory a nudge and she woke with a fright. ‘Easy,’ he said. ‘Here, drink.’ The Prince held out a horn full of liquid.

  ‘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 place
d 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?’