The Dark Age

by Traci Harding

  ‘Good for thee.’

  The maid glanced around to make sure they were alone, then added in a whisper, ‘We suspect that witch Vanora and her maid, but to send her and Caradoc back to Powys without proof of treason would surely insult Chiglas and bring his wrath upon us … and that not be the all of it.’ Katren paused to catch her breath. ‘Sir Cadogan arrived with an urgent message from Castell Degannwy, and the men have been locked in council ever since.’

  ‘How be the Prince faring?’

  ‘Lady Gladys said he hast the Dragon in him this day. I do not know if this be good or bad.’ Katren put her arm around Tory to reassure her. ‘Try not to worry, lady. Thy prince be the bravest and most feared in all Britain. He hast seen much worse than this. Allow me to draw thee a hot bath, then he will surely come to tell thee all about it.’

  Tory laughed. It was true, Maelgwn did seem to have a sixth sense when it came to her bath time. She resigned herself to the fact that there was nothing she could do, at least not until she knew all the facts. Still, deep down she had the most terrible feeling. Why had Caradoc waited until now to poison his father? Surely he would have been a much easier target in Powys.

  The meeting adjourned a few hours before dawn. Maelgwn was tempted to drop off to sleep where he sat, but with the thought of Tory he had to see her. His father’s entire kingdom was under threat, yet his main concern was for her.

  As he entered the north tower, Maelgwn heard sounds of a struggle and a harrowed scream, so he made haste up the stairs. He found Tory alone, embroiled in a nightmare. ‘Wake up, thou art dreaming.’ He took hold of her shoulders and sat beside her.

  Tory sat up with a start, flinging her arms around his neck. ‘Thou art safe,’ she cried into his shirt, not really awake. ‘I saw thee under siege.’ She pulled away, the tears and perspiration trickling down her face as she struggled to recall the rest.

  ‘’Twas just a bad dream, I expect,’ Maelgwn took her in his arms, seeking comfort in the embrace himself.

  ‘I am so sorry about thy father, Maelgwn. How goes his recovery?’ She gently pulled away from him.

  ‘My father be a fighter and be holding on.’ As Maelgwn brushed the hair out of her eyes, he was alarmed to find the mark of the Dragon upon her forehead. He promptly covered his surprise and took up her hands. ‘I have had word from Degannwy that they be under Saxon attack. At present there be no serious threat, but I must leave at dawn to see to the citadel’s defence in the King’s stead.’

  Tory gripped his hands tightly; her dream was beginning to make sense. ‘Be Caradoc going with thee?’

  ‘Nay, I am afraid not. With my absence and the King’s failing health, he has managed to secure a station here. But,’ Maelgwn jumped in before Tory had the chance to panic. ‘The King’s guards suspect, as do I, Caradoc’s involvement in our father’s affliction. They shall keep a close eye on him and his men in my absence.’

  ‘Thee will not make it past the Menai, that be what I dreamt. They had thee surrounded on both banks.’ The tears returned to her eyes and she tightened her grip on him. ‘I saw myself fight thy brother.’

  ‘Nay. I would not leave thee here with Caradoc.’

  ‘So thou art taking me to Degannwy then.’

  ‘Nay!’ Maelgwn was mortified. ‘I would not take thee into battle.’

  Tory pushed him away, insulted. ‘Goddamn it! Stop treating me like a defenceless female. I be one of the best warriors thou hast.’

  Maelgwn stood up, and Tory suddenly felt what most referred to as the Dragon in him. ‘It hast nothing to do with whether thou art a woman, Tory. I cannot afford to lose thee. Our plans for an army that could conquer Chiglas and the Saxons would come to naught.’

  Tory bowed her head in understanding, so Maelgwn softened his tone. ‘I have left instructions with Brockwell, he awaits thee beyond the stables.’

  ‘Nay, thee must take Brockwell to Degannwy for thine own protection.’

  ‘I trust no one else.’

  ‘Katren could ride with me,’ Tory pleaded, at her wit’s end. ‘Please Maelgwn. I felt this dream. It was real. Like the dream thee had about us. I did not say so before, but I have had it too.’

  Maelgwn shook his head, very doubtful that this was the case.

  ‘I saw myself crowned as queen and the two of us making love in a forest,’ Tory blurted out before she had the chance to feel embarrassed.

  Maelgwn was forced to a smile by the truth of it. ‘Tory, I value thy concern, but I have many knights around me and I am weary of arguing this day. I have thought this through well, so please, dress and take thy things. Katren awaits thee downstairs and will take thee to Brockwell.’ He turned to leave. ‘If all goes to plan, I shall meet thee back here in a few days.’

  A terrible feeling was still brewing inside her. ‘Wait!’ She sprang to her feet, and gripping hold of his shirt she drew him into a kiss. ‘I love thee, Maelgwn. There, I’ve said it.’

  Though Maelgwn was stunned he didn’t allow her to retreat, he pulled her closer. ‘Art thou quite sure about this?’

  ‘I am,’ she stated, very matter-of-factly. ‘How do you feel about it?’

  Maelgwn kissed her with fervour. ‘Perhaps thee should consider wedding me then,’ he suggested, then left, not waiting to catch her reaction.

  It took a minute for his words to register and she nearly fell over when they did. Still, with none to share her excitement, Tory resolved to a smile. ‘A British prince, father would definitely approve.’

  Katren led Tory through the house, across the inner bailey and into the darkness of the outer bailey. She couldn’t help but envy Tory, riding off with Sir Brockwell, but said little of it. She was just thankful to be in the thick of the action.

  At the rendezvous point, Brockwell had the horses ready.

  ‘Why Calin, fancy meeting thee here?’ Tory secured her baggage to the horse that Brockwell was leading and moved to mount it.

  ‘Nay. Thee shall ride up here with me,’ Brookwell told her firmly.

  Tory gave him a look of apprehension.

  ‘It will be much safer for both of us,’ he explained. ‘I have seen thee ride and quite honestly, it be a worry.’

  Tory corked Brockwell in the leg for the insult. ‘Thanks very much. Still, I see thy point.’ She swung herself up into the saddle behind him. ‘Take good care, Katren. Remember what thou hast learnt.’

  ‘I will, lady.’

  ‘Thou hast done much for the House of Gwynedd this day.’ Brockwell took up Katren’s hand and kissed it. ‘And I, for one, thank thee for thy part.’

  The maiden seemed to be floating off the ground as she watched them ride into the shadowy morning mist. ‘Aye, he be mine.’

  Maelgwn met his men at dawn to ride to Degannwy, and was not surprised to find his brother waiting to witness his departure.

  ‘If thee just gave ransom to the Saxons, they would not vex thee so,’ Caradoc advised his brother.

  ‘If our father had wished it, would thee have come to the defence of the citadel in the name of Cunedda and the House of Gwynedd?’

  Caradoc noticed the Dragon in his brother this morning, but he was not frightened by that superstitious nonsense any more. Without the old wizard, Maelgwn had no more mystical power than he did. He knew Maelgwn and the bard had not spoken in some time, having argued over his brother’s desire to study under the priests of Rome. The Prince had wanted to take the vows of a monk to spend his life in study. Though Caradoc thought the notion sickening, it certainly would have spared him all this trouble. ‘I serve Chiglas, who be a great great grandson of Cunedda, as indeed am I. When Degannwy be truly mine, I shall defend it.’

  The heat of Maelgwn’s hatred was burning him up. ‘I assure thee, Caradoc, that day will never come.’ He reared his horse and made for the outer bailey portcullis.

  Caradoc smiled. That day hast come.

  Brockwell would have known his way to Llyn Cerrig Bach blindfolded. As they descended into the valley, tow
ards the blue tranquillity of its lake, the landscape became extremely pretty and Brockwell slowed his horse to a more leisurely pace.

  ‘Where hast thou brought me, Calin? ’Tis most enchanting.’ As Tory breathed in the scented air, she became aware of a pulsing that seemed to permeate everything around her.

  ‘This was the last stronghold of the Druids against the Romans some four hundred years ago. The temple ruins be hidden in the forest yonder.’

  ‘Taliesin?’

  ‘I am not at liberty to say.’

  ‘I know I am right, tell me, Calin.’ She stuck her hands underneath his breastplate to tickle it out of him.

  Brockwell, who was extremely ticklish, jumped right off the horse. ‘Do not do that, I hate it.’

  ‘Thou art not getting back on this horse until thou hast answered me,’ Tory informed him, holding him at bay with her foot.

  Brockwell folded his arms, amused. ‘Thee and what army art going to stop me?’

  ‘Thou art so gullible,’ Tory shoved him backwards and took off with the horses.

  Brockwell raced after her, but was not quite fast enough to grab hold of the horse trailing behind. ‘Tory, stop!’

  She just giggled, safe in the knowledge she could get away with it. ‘I shall see thee there.’

  Tory found the ruins on her own. The forest path suddenly parted wide to reveal huge stone pillars, ten times her height. The surrounding trees, so old and hardy, had overgrown what remained of the temple, and vines climbed everything in view. The place held the same mysterious allure as had the stones.

  ‘Taliesin?’ Tory dared to utter as she dismounted. She was beginning to wish she hadn’t made sport of Calin as she became aware of someone whispering close by, although she couldn’t discern the source.

  She was staring at the ominous old temple, thinking how much her father would appreciate it, when it dawned on her that she had a camera. She could photograph it for him. In the back of her mind, Tory still held the hope that she would see her father again and was confident that Taliesin held the key to her dilemma.

  After taking the shot, Tory decided to make a few adjustments to her attire. She had worn the Queen’s clothing to leave the castle, but saw no need for it any longer. She folded the long under dress, and crammed it into her backpack. The green gunna she belted at the waist over her jeans and shirt. If not fashionable, it was at least practical.

  The whispering startled her again. Tory was hesitant as she reached down to retrieve the photo, and was alarmed when she found a couple of dark, blurry spots in the otherwise clear exposure. Cold shivers enfolded her in waves, and Tory felt a hand come to rest on her shoulder. She swung round with full force, setting her stalker off balance.

  ‘Tory!’ Brockwell protested.

  Tory leapt at him with a big hug. ‘Calin, don’t ever let me do that again.’

  ‘The spirits gave thee a scare, did they?’

  Tory pushed him away. ‘Thee could have warned me.’

  Brockwell just chuckled. ‘Now who be gullible?’ But his humour vanished when he noted the dark patch on her forehead. ‘Thy Dragon hast returned.’

  ‘What?’ Tory rummaged for her hand-mirror and checked the mark in its reflection. ‘The dream …’ She paused to recall how real it had been. ‘Maelgwn must have seen this, how could he not? And yet he sent me away, anyway, damn it.’

  ‘I think we should proceed,’ Brockwell said, and strode off to the entrance of the temple.

  As Tory entered the ancient stone structure, the magnitude of her trip through time really hit home. The roof, if there ever was one, was long gone; you just looked straight up into the green canopy of the forest. The stone floor, like everything else, was slowly being engulfed by vines. Yet the carved images of the naked female form which adorned the inner pillars surrounding the large stone altar had been liberated from the undergrowth. This temple must have been a beautiful sanctuary once, she thought. It seemed a crying shame that war had destroyed it. Tory took a few more photographs, as by the twentieth century nothing would remain of it at all.

  Brockwell was admiring one of the naked women. At the age of seven, he’d thought himself in paradise when he and Maelgwn had ripped away the vines to discover the shapely carvings. ‘Thee can see why I liked it here.’

  ‘Calin, thou art incorrigible,’ Tory rolled her eyes and moved to inspect the altar. ‘So where be this Taliesin?’

  ‘Good question.’ Brockwell headed for the huge altar and jumped up on it to look round.

  Tory threw her gear up to Brockwell and stepped back a moment, encouraging him to smile. He didn’t, but Tory took the photo anyway, stuffing it and the camera back in her bag.

  Brockwell grabbed hold of her belt and hoisted her up with one hand. ‘Thee weighs like a feather,’ he said with disgust; it was beyond his comprehension how she could possess the strength she did.

  ‘Just imagine what thee could do with what I know,’ she replied.

  Brockwell gazed round the ruins, acting as if he wasn’t interested. He was a little uncertain about his next move. ‘Taliesin!’ he cried out into the eerie silence. ‘I seek thee in the name of the Dragon, and request that thee show thyself.’ After a few moments, he wasn’t as confident of finding the bard. ‘I have Tory Alexander in my care.’ The temple at once became brighter, even though the sun was still hidden by the trees above.

  Tory chanced to look down at a cross engraved in the stone under their feet, and found it had begun to glow. The light gradually extended outwards, engulfing the whole altar, and a white mist exuded from the core. ‘Calin, hast this ever happened before?’

  Brockwell pulled Tory close, afraid she would become lost in the haze. ‘Nay, never.’

  That figures. She looked around, but the mist and light were so intense that she could no longer see the temple or the trees.

  The ride to the Menai Strait was swift, and so far they’d seen no sign of trouble. In fact, the place seemed almost too quiet. Maelgwn paid heed to Tory’s warning about crossing the strait and sent scouts down both sides of the waterway.

  He boarded the barge, accompanied by Cadogan, Madoc, and his second battalion. A storm was approaching from the mountains in the south. Their party would make the citadel before it reached them, and Maelgwn was relieved to note that his attackers would not be so fortunate.

  Upon reaching the mainland, the Prince received news from Degannwy that the Saxons had withdrawn and were regrouping with reinforcements in the mountains. He could hardly believe his ears; the Saxons didn’t usually band together.

  As a race they weren’t that organised or loyal. They had too many leaders who were all far too greedy and power hungry to co-operate with each other. Unless, of course, someone has rallied them together? Maelgwn recalled his brother’s sly remark about paying off the Saxons. How could his father have led them into this? Did he not suspect Caradoc and Chiglas were up to no good? Maelgwn had asked the King this very question, but the old man was delirious in his weakened state. He’d just smiled and told Maelgwn that this was all for the best, and that in the end he would not think him such a foolish old man. The Prince, losing patience with his father, sought the whereabouts of the King’s closest friend and champion, Sir Tiernan. Unfortunately, the knight had been sent on a diplomatic errand. The Prince could only hope that Sir Tiernan’s absence meant that his father had suspected Caradoc of having malicious intent, as the rest of the King’s staff seemed to think this arrangement with Chiglas was legitimate. They had seen for themselves the armies he was building in Powys and thought the King’s plan to unite the kingdoms wise. At least Tory was safe from his brother’s grasp for the moment. It worried him that she had seen herself fighting Caradoc. Perhaps his decision to send her away would save her from any such horror.

  ‘Shall I send word for more troops from Aberffraw, Majesty?’ Madoc half advised, half inquired.

  As Cadogan stood right beside them, following every word, Maelgwn merely shook his head, and walk
ed off to be alone with his thoughts. If he suspected correctly, this was exactly what his brother wanted him to do. For if Caradoc had poisoned their father and was conspiring with the Saxons, he must be planning a simultaneous assault. Maelgwn figured that as the Saxons besieged Degannwy, his brother might be planning to bring Chiglas’ forces over the mountains. A large force could easily be hidden further down the Menai Strait to await a dawn attack on the island. Caradoc wants Aberffraw, Maelgwn surmised. Why else would he have gone to such pains arranging this marriage, if not so that he could conveniently be present when all this came to pass. Caradoc knows the main route that our armies take to Degannwy. He also knows better than anyone the way through the mountains of Gwynedd between here and Powys.

  As a boy, Caradoc had taken to the mountains to live wild for months on end in the company of their uncle Cadfer. Cadfer dabbled in black magic, and calling upon the darkest aspects of nature, he conjured up the dead spirit of a wretched witch, who helped him devise a means to steal his brother’s kingdom. Years later, Cadfer did rule as King in Gwynedd for a short time. He seized power from Caswallon and imprisoned him. Cadfer, who had lusted after Queen Sorcha for many years, reportedly raped and murdered her. Though another account claimed Sorcha had cut her own throat to save her dignity. The Queen swore, with her dying breath, that upon her passing she would become even more powerful and her wrath would fall on all those who opposed Gwynedd.

  Maelgwn had arrived on the scene with Taliesin and Tiernan, but an hour too late to save her. The Prince, ardent for revenge and only fifteen years old, killed his uncle with a sword that had been sharpened on the Whetstone Tudwal Tydglyd — one of thirteen Treasures of Britain that Taliesin had collected in his travels. Maelgwn believed that his brother, but ten years of age at the time, was fully aware of their uncle’s intent. Cadfer had probably named Caradoc as his heir, as Chiglas had, with none but bastard sons of his own and a daughter.

  ‘I must keep Mon well guarded,’ Maelgwn resolved. ‘Yet, what if this proves to be nothing but a coincidence? To remove troops from Degannwy, which be under threat, to meet an army that may not exist would be ridiculous.’