The Dark Age

by Traci Harding

  As Katren returned, Brockwell rushed over to resume her services. ‘Please Katren, tell the Lady Tory that I do look forward to our time together in the twentieth century, and tell her I promise to try not to die next time round.’

  Tory smiled at his words, though poor Katren hadn’t a clue what he was raving about.

  ‘But for the time being,’ he continued. ‘I would consider it a great honour if the future Queen were to continue to regard me as her kin.’

  ‘Doth he mean it, Katren?’

  Brockwell looked Katren straight in the eye, and gave a firm nod.

  ‘I think so,’ Katren replied.

  ‘Then may I ask thee a favour, Calin?’ Tory turned to him.

  ‘Aye, anything!’ he besought her, or rather Katren.

  ‘As my only living relative at this time, would thee stand in for my father at my wedding? If I am asking too much please say so.’

  ‘Nay, it would be a fine thing, I agree.’

  ‘Only we may have to blindfold him. His oath did say he could not look upon thee till after thou hast wed,’ Katren pointed out.

  ‘Then so be it,’ Brockwell insisted. ‘I shall be honoured, all the same.’

  The Prince gradually became aware of the presence of light in the room, so he gathered that his isolation was drawing to a close. The fairy folk had left him ages ago, and as he slowly stretched his limbs he viewed the detailed artwork of deep blue with which they had covered his body. The Prince considered he looked rather like one of the Northern Pictish warriors before a battle, but even the Picts’ body paint was not as ornate as this.

  The folk had depicted beasts from the legends of the Old Ones. On the Prince’s chest was the head of a lion, representing the greatest of the Otherworld deities — Gwydion, ‘Lion of Greatest Course’. The God of Science, Music, and Light, Gwydion represented the old truths as they were brought to the isles from across the water; thus it was he who set the task that would be required of the initiate. Serpents wound around the back of Maelgwn’s hands, around his arms and over his shoulders; these creatures had long been associated with wisdom and magic. The Prince looked in a mirror to follow the tails, finding they crossed to form a crow with its wings spread wide in flight. The crow was synonymous with the Goddess of Life and Death. Below it was the head of the stag, its antlers reaching up to the bird. This beast represented the male companion, protector or masculine side of the Goddess, like Pan. When Maelgwn brushed the hair from his forehead he viewed his own affiliate, the Dragon.

  ‘Dost thou know who put it there?’

  The memory of Tory revealing the mark to him the first day they’d met, sprang to mind. Maelgwn smiled, wondering if she would think him mad when he told her that the fairy folk were responsible for branding her with his mark.

  Taliesin was proud and delighted when he beheld the folk’s handiwork. ‘The Tylwyth Teg have not left a blessing on an initiate for a very long time. This be a splendid sign for thee indeed, but I must say, not entirely unexpected.’ Taliesin felt he did owe himself some credit. ‘After thy time away I feared they might reject thee. Still, as they have marked thee as one of their Chosen Ones and a Lord of Beasts, thy success be as good as assured.’

  The Prince again looked at his reflection, viewing the folk’s gift to him in a new light. ‘The land shall unite and prosper.’ The Prince uttered the words he’d heard so often since his father’s passing.

  ‘Aye, that be the prophecy, follow me.’

  Night had fallen in the valley, and large torches encircled the clearing outside the Temple of the Goddess. Great bolts of lightning and turbulent winds played across the skies, yet naught but a warm breeze could be felt in the glen below. Maelgwn, dressed only in trousers, emerged from the ruins to the sound of pounding drums. Taliesin brought the Prince before his men who were seated around a fire where a large cauldron simmered.

  The cauldron belonged to Taliesin’s mother, Keridwen, the Goddess of Inspiration, hence her cauldron was renowned for the same. Of the Triple Goddess, Keridwen was the Crone or Wise Woman. As the dispenser of the old truths, it was she who would announce Gwydion’s quest to the initiate. Her cauldron contained the elixir of kings. The men present, having painted their bodies in the old tradition, all had a sip from its contents in turn, but only the Prince was permitted to drink his fill of the brew.

  Maelgwn sat before the cauldron, with his back to the temple ruins. He felt detached from his physical form now; it was as though, with the slightest provocation, his mind, thoughts and feelings would float away. He drank yet another cup of the dreamy brew, and this sensation intensified with the beating of the drums.

  I am the one who heartens the soul,

  to the glory of the spirits.

  On behalf of us all,

  I am the bard, trained through time to treat the great

  mysteries.

  Taliesin’s words rang out through the din and he came to stand behind his student. His role this night was both master of ceremonies and record keeper. When Maelgwn went into a trance and left them to journey through the Otherworld, it was the Merlin’s task to note the Prince’s account of what took place there.

  And I am the silent proficient,

  who addresses the bards of the land:

  it is mine to animate the hero;

  to persuade the unadvised;

  to awaken the silent beholder —

  the bold illuminator of Kings!

  The storm crashed and flashed with fury. Maelgwn’s eyes, which had been lulled closed, suddenly opened wide, and the drums stopped. ‘The Dragon returns,’ he told them all, and the breeze rose to a wind with his words.

  Far away, the ancients’ bell began to chime, its tones so pleasing to the ear. From the most distant heights behind the temple, the storm clouds gathered and billowed down over the mountain peak. The thick white mist whirled its way towards the gathering, engulfing everything in its path.

  Taliesin smiled like a man returning home as the haze came over them. The scent of a thousand flowers wafted through it, tranquilising the senses with its potency. Out of the silence of the forest, a choir slowly raised a mesmerising chant. The men knew the voices which graced their ears to be those of the Tylwyth Teg, come to lay blessing on the future King.

  ‘The gateway to the Otherworld hast opened for the initiate,’ Taliesin announced. ‘May he be pleasing to the Goddess and succeed in gracing this land with her wisdom and blessing. Summon forth the beast who shall guard the gateway for thee and allow thy spirit to enter and travel the Otherworld unharmed.’

  Maelgwn closed his eyes in concentration, the bells and chants filling his soul with a sense of divine power. From this source that lay seething deep inside, he silently besought his spirit guide which dwelt beyond the open gateway to come forth to his aid.

  After a moment, a great thud vibrated across the earth, and then another and another. Tall trees were heard to topple and the rumble of the pounding became more intense as the beast approached. King Catulus, knowing all too well the echo of a dragon’s steps, raised his horrified eyes. The trees behind the temple shook as the red glowing eyes of the huge beast emerged from the dark mists.

  Sir Tiernan watched defenceless as the giant beast came round the ruins. It reared up onto its hind legs and slowly edged its way forward. The knight wondered what he would do if the dragon was malicious. But it came to rest, without incident, directly behind the Prince, who didn’t even bat an eyelid.

  The dragon spread wide its huge wings and released a mighty screech, the flame of its breath spewing into the atmosphere way above the heads of the mystified knights. None had ever expected to see the like of such phenomena, and those who remembered Caswallon’s inauguration knew this to be an extraordinary occurrence. This wasn’t any mortal beast that the young Prince had summoned forth. This was a creature of the Otherworld, a pet of the great Goddess Keridwen herself.

  Taliesin, quill in hand, set ink to parchment to record what would become
known as ‘The Legend of Maelgwn, King of Gwynedd, Dragon of the Isle’.

  The Prince’s eyes opened and he began to convey his tale, ‘I stand outside my body now, and see myself as I address this gathering. The forest that surrounds us be alive with colour and light, so bright it be blinding to my eyes …’

  The Prince’s spirit left his physical form to the telling, to get on with his quest. Amidst the electrifying colour created by the fairy folk, the temple appeared resurrected to its original form and glory. As he approached the temple steps, Maelgwn spied a white-hooded figure who awaited him there.

  Sorcha drew back the hood and held out her hands to him in greeting. ‘My beloved Maelgwn, how I have looked forward to this moment.’

  ‘Mother.’ Maelgwn knelt before her and kissed both her hands, before resting his forehead against them. ‘How I have missed thee.’

  ‘Arise dear child, I have come to show thee the way to the Goddess, where thou art expected. Come.’ She took hold of his hand and led him to the altar where a blinding white light began to stream from the Celtic cross engraved upon it. The heavy stone tablet slid aside, revealing a staircase.

  Deeper and deeper into the earth his mother led him. When at last they emerged from the side of a mountain, they beheld a kingdom so perfect and beautiful that it could only ever exist in the Land of Fairy.

  ‘Do not drink or eat while thou art here, lest thee may never return to thy bride,’ Sorcha cautioned.

  The Prince nodded, heeding his mother’s advice. As he stepped forward to make his way to the castle gates, Maelgwn found they were standing in front of two of the largest doors he had ever seen. These parted wide to grant admittance to a great feast that was in progress. Maelgwn entered at Sorcha’s side, doing his best not to gape at the frivolities taking place around them. As they approached the main table, his mother kissed him and left to resume her seat by Caswallon.

  Three women were seated at the main table, one dressed in white, one in red, and the other in black. When they rose to address the Prince, the entire room silenced in attention. Maelgwn stopped and bowed deeply.

  These three comprised the face of the triple Goddess. Branwen, in white, was the maiden, the teacher of truth and the guardian of righteousness. Her skin was fair with a slightly golden hue, her long hair as dark and straight as Maelgwn’s own. The maiden’s eyes were black as night, and her slender form and beauty did not escape the Prince’s attention. The warrior Goddess in red was Rhiannon who had charge of justice and the airing of truth. Her colouring, build and appearance were very similar to Sorcha or Tory, but her hair fell in fiery red waves. The enchantress or wise woman in black was, of course, Keridwen. Although young of face, her hair was as silvery as her son’s and her eyes of soft green-grey were the colour of the ocean after a storm. Her build was tiny, like that of the Tylwyth Teg, and she exhibited the same pixie-like features and huge slanted eyes they did.

  Maelgwn had stopped in front of the Crone, who eyed him over with decided interest. ‘We bid thee welcome, young Prince. The folk have marked thee as Chosen, we see. And Taliesin claims thou art his most promising initiate ever. We have considered this in naming thy quest, Maelgwn of Gwynedd.’

  The maiden Branwen passed straight through the table before her to approach the Prince. ‘Dragon of the Island, we call upon thee to defend the Chair and the Cauldron of Keridwen, lest thine people will not always be free to honour the Goddess.’ The beautiful maid offered him encouragement as she moved gracefully round him, gently running her fingertips over his bare skin. ‘Our pleasures await thee upon thy return … Our milk, our dew, our acorns, shall be thy reward.’

  Rhiannon, the warrior Goddess, approached Maelgwn, cluching a bunch of grapes in one hand. She clasped him firmly round the back of the neck, her eyes looking deep into his soul, and her words mesmerised him. ‘We have considered what could befall us. Trouble already menaces the lands to the East and Powys.’ She popped a grape into his mouth, and in his enchanted state, Maelgwn very nearly ate it. When the Prince spat out the forbidden fruit, Rhiannon was quite impressed. ‘Thou art not easily distracted, Dragon. Good, very good.’

  The women withdrew to the side of Keridwen, where they merged to become one being that glowed green and spoke with the voices of all three.

  Maelgwn, overawed, fell on one knee before Don, the divine mother.

  ‘We must unite Prydyn against Powys and the invaders, my people must become as one race. Only then shall the Goddess be preserved in our great land. Maelgwn of Gwynedd, thou art destined for this duty and thus we find thee worthy to hold the office of thy forefathers. Dost thou accept this as thy quest in the name of the Goddess?’

  ‘Aye, I do.’

  ‘Then stand and face thy task.’

  As the Prince did as he was instructed, the three women again separated and Keridwen alone addressed him.

  ‘Gwydion hast decreed that thee must go as thou art to Castell Dwyran in Dyfed, for there thou shalt find Vortipor of the Desi Clan. Then on to the court of Aurelius Caninus in Gwent Is Coed, where thee will find the King at his residence in Caerleon. Thou art to warn these men of the alliance between Powys and the invaders, and must invite both kings to thy wedding celebrations. King Catulus of Dumnonia be required to attend also. Upon the fourth and last day of the feasting, I shall address all these leaders. If my dragon consents, take him to speed thy journey, for he shall mark thee as our messenger. If these kings consider themselves of my flock, they shall be urged to comply, lest they risk our disfavour on their kingdoms. Thy words Dragon, be my own. For this be the will of the Great Houses of Don and Llyr.’

  ‘So be it,’ the men all cried.

  Maelgwn blinked to find himself returned to his seat before the cauldron. He stood and faced the dragon. ‘What say thee, Rufus?’ (the dragon’s chosen name). ‘Would thou consider braving the Middle Kingdoms again to aid me in my quest?’

  One might consider it, if one may be permitted to make a small request in return, the dragon bethought the Prince as it gazed down upon him.

  ‘What be thy request, old friend?’ the Prince asked before agreeing; he’d played with this dragon before and they didn’t always see eye to eye.

  If Chiglas fails to buy thy bastard brother back, thee must give him to me. As one hates the little mongrel, and imagines he would make a very tasty appetiser.

  ‘Well I cannot blame thee really, although I would not fancy eating him myself,’ the Prince said, still considering the beast’s request. If Caradoc’s own people didn’t want him back, Maelgwn certainly didn’t hold any love for him. ‘Alright, if a fair price be not set by the spring, Caradoc shall be thine.’

  The dragon seemed to smile as it lowered its claw to give the Prince a hand up to sit between its large shoulder blades and wings. Without further ado, the beast screeched, raised its huge body and flew off into a hazy dawn sky. The mist had settled over the land, where it would stay until the Prince returned from his quest, triumphant.

  Tory was summoned from her training by Lady Gladys, who announced the arrival of Taliesin Pen Beirdd. Thus she left Katren to continue the lesson and accompanied Lady Gladys to greet him, relieved by his visit. In addition to wanting to inquire after Maelgwn, Tory had been pondering her harsh words to Taliesin on the day of their victory, and felt she owed him an apology.

  Taliesin had been right about the teachings of the Old Ones, they were much closer to her beliefs than the more orthodox religions to which she was accustomed. There was no life and death for these people, just differing states of consciousness on the path to the soul’s perfection. This was basically what she believed, and Taliesin had, of course, known this all along.

  Tory entered the library to find the Merlin gazing out the window.

  ‘There is no need to apologise, dear lady, you were perfectly right. I should consult you and Maelgwn before deciding the course of matters that concern yourselves and Gwynedd,’ he announced, already understanding her mind.

  �
�Taliesin!’ She smiled, feeling a twinge of annoyance. ‘Will you please let me speak my mind before jumping in with a resolve. You’re always two conversations ahead of me.’ Tory noticed she was becoming flustered again and calmed down. ‘Here I was coming to apologise for being angry with you and you’ve made me angry again.’

  ‘So sorry, please run through the formalities if you feel you must.’

  ‘I give up, why bother?’ Tory concluded, eager to find how Maelgwn fared.

  Taliesin almost answered but conforming to her wishes, waited for Tory to ask.

  ‘How is Maelgwn? I know he must have embarked on his quest by now as the storm has cleared. You know his quest, do you think him capable of completing it in time for our wedding?’

  ‘My dear child, all goes splendidly. You are the bride who shall be Queen, rejoice and indulge yourself. You have naught to worry about but your wedding preparations. I assure you that the celebrations shall go ahead as planned.’

  Taliesin and Tory had lunch served in the library. The Merlin told her most of the story of Maelgwn’s journey into the Otherworld and of his quest, omitting only the details that the Prince would wish to discuss with her himself.

  ‘Fairies, shamanism, astral travelling, what else is he into that I don’t know about?’ She was only just beginning to realise how extraordinary the man she was to marry, truly was.

  Over mead they spoke of a great many things, but as a bride, naturally her first concern was the dress.

  ‘Dresses,’ Taliesin corrected her, explaining that the celebrations would span the period of four days.

  ‘Four days! That’s what I call a party.’

  ‘The first day you shall wear a dress of white, representing the maid and first aspect of the triple Goddess. After the Prince hast been crowned in the presence of his men, you will be brought forth to exchange gifts with him. There will be a great feast and the Prince will lay claim to you this night.’