The Dark Age

by Traci Harding

  ‘Which be?’

  ‘I am afraid this will seem sudden, but my circumstances leave me pressed for time.’

  ‘Maelgwn, it be me, Tory. Thou art my dearest friend, thee can ask me anything.’

  The Prince took hold of Tory’s right hand and, confronting his fear head on, went down on one knee before her. ‘If I am found worthy to hold the office of King, would thee, Tory Alexander, do me the great honour of becoming my wife and Queen.’ Maelgwn couldn’t believe that the words had left his lips, and he listened to his heart beat as he awaited her reply.

  Tory, though stunned, didn’t want to keep the Prince in suspense and went down on her knees to speak to him. ‘I am the one who be honoured, Maelgwn, believe me. But thou art a prince, dost thou not have to wed a princess?’

  Maelgwn was forced to smile; she obviously hadn’t even mildly comprehended what he’d been trying all this while to explain. ‘I think a Goddess will suffice.’

  ‘Oh!’ Tory was enlightened. That’s what Taliesin was trying to tell me. She was quiet for a moment, considering the proposal seriously.

  Maelgwn watched her closely, and to his dismay Tory’s expression became one of growing concern. For as much as Tory wanted to say yes, there were two very important points that she needed to discuss. ‘Hast thou thought this well through?’

  ‘Aye, I have.’ He was alarmed by her reaction.

  She stood and took a few steps away so he could view her clearly. ‘Look at me, Maelgwn. I am not like the women thou art accustomed to, and I have no intention of changing the way I am, or what I hold true and just, to suit anyone else’s ideals. I will not.’

  ‘But I do not want thee to change,’ Maelgwn insisted, standing also.

  ‘Wait, thee must hear me out. Please Maelgwn, this be very important as it bothers me greatly.’

  The Prince was silenced and took a seat on the sea-wall to listen to her.

  ‘If I was to rule here at thy side then the two of us would represent the law of the land, would we not?’ she began.

  ‘Aye, that we would.’

  ‘Then, I can only respond thus. Unless certain laws were enforced throughout the kingdom for the protection of women and children, then to my deepest regret I would have to decline thy lovely proposal. For how can I be expected to represent that which I cannot condone?’ Tory’s expression was serious and she prayed Maelgwn would not take offence to her terms, or think her too insubordinate for saying so.

  Already she employs Sorcha’s foresight and strong will. Heaven help me! ‘I know my kingdom and people be far from perfect, but together we could change that.’ He slid off the wall and took hold of her. ‘I have come to realise these few days past that I do love thee beyond my life. I am prepared to do whatever I must to be one with thee, Tory.’

  ‘I can certainly appreciate that,’ Tory said, sharing his sense of urgency as he bent down to kiss her. ‘But, there be one last thing.’

  Maelgwn let her go, feeling a mite exasperated by her resistance. ‘Ask away.’

  ‘Maelgwn, do not be mad with me. If thou hast missed me these past few days, please believe I missed thee tenfold.’ As he appeared to calm a little, she continued, ‘However, try as we might to forget, the simple fact remains that I am not supposed to be here. This doth not worry me greatly, but somewhere in the twentieth century, the two people I care about most art beside themselves with worry.’

  The Prince nodded slightly. ‘I could not keep thee from thy kin, Tory. I understand.’

  ‘I do not want to go back there, silly,’ she teased. ‘I just want to visit and let them know I be safe and well. Taliesin said it may be possible next summer solstice.’

  Maelgwn reacted to the news like a man possessed. ‘But that not be for near a year,’ he cried, lifting her into the air.

  ‘Aye,’ she laughed, revelling in his joy.

  ‘And would thee promise to return to me?’

  ‘Nay.’ She toyed with him, trying to hide her smile as he brought her back to the ground.

  ‘Nay?’

  Tory slid both arms around his neck. ‘I never wish to leave thee again. Thee must come. My parents would want to meet my husband.’

  Maelgwn’s expression melted to a smile, and with all the formalities out of the way, he finally induced her to a kiss.

  PART TWO

  SPACE

  10

  INAUGURATION

  All his life, Maelgwn had dreaded taking on the huge responsibility of his father’s office. Yet with Tory at his side, the thought was not so daunting. He smiled at her as she walked with him. His inauguration was all that stood between himself and his idea of paradise. I be deserving of my father’s position, so I must not doubt my own ability. This vision of the Goddess be my rightful claim, no matter what the spirits may ask as proof of my worthiness.

  As they stopped outside the Great Hall the Prince whispered, ‘This could be a little overwhelming, my subjects tend to get rather excited by the news of a wedding.’

  Tory smiled, every bit as nervous as she was thrilled by their impending announcement. She had no idea what to expect, knowing little about local ceremony. ‘Well, I am ready if thou art.’

  The Prince hugged her, proud of the way she was taking this all in her stride. He’d been allowed a lifetime to become accustomed to the idea of leadership, whereas Tory had only been given a few days. ‘Right.’ He moved to open the doors.

  ‘Wait.’ Tory pulled him back for a kiss of encouragement.

  The pair, preoccupied for the moment, didn’t heed the doors in front of them parting wide. When the eyes of all at court beheld their Prince and his lady in a strong embrace, the whistles and applause were almost deafening.

  Maelgwn and Tory burst into laughter, embarrassed.

  ‘I think we’ve been found out,’ she said in jest.

  ‘Indeed.’ The Prince turned to address the rowdy gathering and somehow managed to quieten them. ‘I be very pleased to inform ye all, my family, dear friends, loyal knights and ladies …’ He was forced to pause when his men again raised riot to confirm their allegiance. Flattered by their enthusiasm, Maelgwn shouted over the din, ‘…that upon my inauguration, Tory Alexander will do me the great honour of becoming my wedded wife and Queen to all Gwynedd.’

  Taliesin was overjoyed as the cries of the rejoicing crowd filled the huge room. But as he rose to address them, silence fell over the court.

  ‘As messenger of the Otherworld,’ he began, ‘I decree that the initiate, Maelgwn of Gwynedd, shall face inauguration five days hence. Should he be found worthy and succeed in the task set for him by his forefathers, he shall wed with the Goddess seven days thereafter. This be the will of the Great Houses, Don and Llyr.’

  ‘So be it!’ the crowd responded in unison, giving a cheer.

  Lady Gladys was beside herself with tears, and near drowned the couple with her joy as she embraced them. ‘In the whole of creation, thee could not have found thyself a fairer match.’ She kissed Maelgwn’s cheek then turned to Tory. ‘May I be the first to welcome thee, child, to the clan of Cunedda the Great. I cannot express how overjoyed I be to accept thee as my kindred.’

  Tory was moved to tears as they embraced. ‘I thank thee Lady Gladys, for everything. I shall do my very best to live up to thy high ancestral name.’

  ‘Dear girl.’ Lady Gladys had to chuckle. ‘I hold no fear of that.’

  When silence descended, Tory and Lady Gladys turned to find that Maelgwn had raised his hands.

  ‘Good people. Much hast happened this night, and although Gwynedd will deeply mourn the death of my father Caswallon, he shall be remembered always as a great King among Britons.’

  Tory considered his words, knowing to the contrary; Caswallon would only be remembered as father to King Maelgwn of Gwynedd. It was Maelgwn who would be revered as the Great King among Britons.

  ‘My divine mother, Queen Sorcha, manifested to tend the King in his passing. So I assure all thee who grieve, that the Ki
ng be a far happier soul now that he hast joined his beloved wife. Together may they at last find their peace eternal.’ Maelgwn bowed his head in remembrance, as did everyone in the room.

  After a moment of silence, the Prince slapped his hands together and moved on to a brighter subject. ‘However, as my father was a man renowned for honouring occasion, I feel sure Caswallon would not have seen his subjects so solemn on a day as auspicious as this! Sorcha’s dying prophesy of retribution hast been fulfilled. The Might of Gwynedd hast triumphed over the treasonous House of Chiglas, and their hired Saxon thugs!’

  A cry of victory was raised.

  ‘I have never seen him so spirited,’ Lady Gladys whispered to Tory.

  ‘And with my imminent wedding to celebrate, I invite all to join me in a feast, just as my father would have had it.’

  A second cry sounded. Weekends were not heard of in this age, so a feast was as good as a holiday.

  ‘Caswallon be dead!’ Tiernan cried, which incited the rest of the gathering to respond: ‘Long live King Maelgwn!’

  The ladies of the house flew into action with the announcement of the festivities, and Maelgwn left to attend the pressing affairs of State.

  Tory wandered down the grand halls of the castle, when it dawned on her that, through her participation in Gwynedd’s victory she’d not only won the right to marry her love, but she had obtained her liberty as well. This prompted her to chance something that she’d been longing to attempt since first setting foot on Aberffraw.

  The gateway to the stairs leading to the beach was located below her tower room. There was no access to the beach from the castle, however. One had to exit through the inner portcullis into the outer-bailey grounds then walk round the east tower.

  Tory followed a cobbled pathway through the outer gardens that led down the outside of the northern wing; the gateway she sought was just ahead. Maelgwn had given her his medallion of the Dragon, which served the same function as a backstage pass might in the twentieth century. She flashed it at the gatehouse guards and was granted access to wherever she pleased.

  As the iron grille was lowered behind her, Tory paused to breathe deeply the sea air and feel the sunshine on her face. The beach was completely deserted as everyone was at the celebrations; the peace and isolation of the moment filled her with joy.

  Tory hurried down the old sandstone stairs, then pulled off her boots. She burrowed her toes deep into the sand and sighed with delight at the memories of home. With her jeans rolled up to her knees, Tory shrieked as she felt the icy water rush against her bare skin and she splashed her way along the shore break, basking in the release of her new-found freedom.

  When she returned from a brisk jog, Tory met Brockwell seated on the stairs that led from the beach to the bailey wall. She smiled, pleased to see him. ‘Hey Bro.’

  ‘Stop calling me that,’ he shot back at her as he stood up. ‘I am not thy brother yet.’

  Uh-oh! Tory took a step backwards. She was a little confused by his sudden change of heart. ‘It could be short for Brockwell. I meant no offence by …’

  ‘Why art thou wedding Maelgwn when thee told me thee did not love him?’

  I see. ‘What I said was that Maelgwn had nothing to do with why I wouldn’t sleep with thee, or dost thy memory of that night escape thee completely?’ She made her way past him, not wanting a confrontation; Brockwell had, no doubt, been drinking for hours.

  ‘So now thee will be Queen,’ he called after her in spite.

  Adrenalin shot through her body, and had it been anyone but Calin Tory would have lashed out. Instead she paused and took a deep breath. ‘If thou art seeking to hurt, thou hast succeeded.’ She did not turn back to look at him but continued her climb.

  ‘Nay, don’t go.’ His tone softened dramatically and although Tory was hesitant, his plea managed to sway her. ‘I did not intend to attack thee, truly.’

  As Tory’s eyes met his, she became more sympathetic. ‘Oh Calin, what am I going to do with thee?’

  ‘Be thee aware …’ he informed her, taking her in his arms, ‘…that it be customary for a young knight like myself to take an older woman as a mistress? I do truly worship …’

  Tory panicked. ‘Calin, please. Dost Maelgwn’s friendship and trust mean nothing to thee?’

  ‘Honour be more important than life,’ he assured her. ‘Still, thou art fairer than even honour and I will fight to the death for thy favours, if need be.’

  This angered her; she would not be the cause of dispute between the Prince and his champion. ‘Over my dead body, Calin. Just listen to thyself! Hast thou never heard the tale of Lancelot and Guinevere?’

  ‘Nay,’ Brockwell shrugged. ‘Was it a tale of love?’

  ‘Aye,’ Tory thought it rather odd that the knight should have no knowledge of the Arthurian saga; perhaps the historians were right in saying that this King had never existed. ‘And ’twas a tragic love story at that. When Queen Guinevere fell in love with Sir Lancelot, King Arthur and his kingdom were lost. She became a nun, and the gallant Sir Lancelot went mad.

  ‘Even if thou wast not the very image of Brian, which thou art, I love Maelgwn. Surely it shows?’

  ‘Aye, all too well.’ He clenched his jaw, as he looked away to the ocean.

  ‘My whole life was just a meaningless stream of information until I met him, Calin.’

  Brockwell wasn’t too thrilled by her reckoning but the tenderness in her voice urged him to take a seat and hear her out.

  ‘And now I have a purpose. I can make a difference here. I realise,’ she said, only now becoming aware of her situation as she spoke, ‘that everything I have ever studied — the fighting, the history, the language — was not all for naught. It hast all been in preparation to wed him.’

  ‘I follow,’ he replied softly.

  ‘Calin, I am sorry.’ She came to sit beside him. ‘But I would just be another in a long line for thee, and there art so many beautiful maidens here that —’

  ‘Nay, there be none to compare, not here, not anywhere.’

  ‘Then I shall have to find and train one to keep thee out of mischief.’

  ‘’Tis not possible.’

  ‘Of course it be possible, dost thou think I was born with these skills?’ She nudged him, as she would Brian when he was being stupid.

  ‘How long would it take?’ he asked and Tory was forced to laugh.

  ‘Let us discuss it over lunch.’ She slapped his knee. ‘I need a drink.’

  By mid-afternoon, Sir Cedric, Sir Rhys, Sir Angus, and their legions had arrived at the castle bearing the headless body of Sir Madoc. They had made the sad discovery during their passage to Aberffraw, finding the old knight washed up on the Mon side of the Menai Strait.

  Some of the native clans, like Chiglas, still followed the savage practice aptly known as ‘the taking of heads’. They believed that the head was the temple of the soul, and by decapitation it would be forever trapped there. The severed remains of their fallen enemy were then nailed to the front of their houses, as proof of their prowess.

  The knights brought the news to Maelgwn, who was still in conference with his court. The Prince grieved Madoc’s death even more than his father’s, feeling directly responsible. Sir Madoc had been one of Caswallon’s finest knights and Gwynedd would miss him dearly. Maelgwn could only hope that Sir Gilmore would pull through, as he would require the guidance of his father’s old colleagues in the years ahead.

  Cedric reported that the troops at Degannwy had carried out a dawn raid on the enemy in the strait and mountains, to prevent any risk of a force regrouping for a third attack. ‘By sundown,’ he predicted, ‘there will not be one enemy soldier left in Gwynedd, dead or alive.’

  Except Caradoc. Maelgwn slouched back in his chair, unsure what should become of him. The Prince had resolved to send Vanora and her maid, complete with a letter of warning, back to her father in Powys. Chiglas may choose to pay ransom for Caradoc’s release, and if his offer was substant
ial and befitting his grievous crime, Maelgwn would consider it. This was the procedure that the Prince knew he must follow to avoid further blood feuding. Had the shoe been on the other foot, Caradoc probably would have disregarded diplomacy and had the King’s murderer and his accomplice slain. But such an action would cast the kingdoms of the Britons into another decade of war, and they had enough to worry about just keeping the Saxons at bay. So, while Chiglas was making up his mind, the Prince decided he would have the traitor taken off the island and away from his peacetime haven and training ground. Perhaps to Degannwy, where Caradoc could spend the winter pondering his misadventures in a dark, squalid dungeon.

  ‘Our thorough search hast failed to find any trace of Sir Cadogan, and it be highly unusual for either Chiglas or the Saxons to take prisoners with so many of their own wounded,’ Sir Rhys informed the Prince.

  A couple of years younger than the Prince and a distant cousin, Rhys was lord of his own lands on the island and a married man. His first child was expected before the end of the fall. Like Maelgwn, Sir Rhys was quite a scholar and therefore was the obvious choice to appoint to Madoc’s position as the keeper of the King’s personal records and accounts. Rhys’ new position would not become official until Maelgwn’s crowning, though he’d already assumed the responsibilities of the office.

  ‘What art thou implying, sir? Cadogan be no deserter,’ Cedric demanded of Rhys, annoyed that one so young was to be appointed to such a high station.

  Sir Cedric was not a well-educated man; he’d been knighted for his battle skills more than his intelligence. He knew that he was unqualified for the academic appointment, but at times like this his lack of education frustrated him; these kids thought they knew everything!